Solitary
by MizJoely
Summary: Tegan makes an unpleasant discovery about her last encounter with the Mara, and the 5th Doctor is called in to assist in her recovery. This assistance will become literally "hands on" as the story progresses, with a few future Doctors making their appearance to help out...and one old enemy to upset things.
1. Prologue: At the End of the Universe

Tegan walked around the house, peeking in the various rooms on the ground floor, noting the tasteful furnishings and ample fireplaces and gleaming, modern-to-her kitchen, even glancing through the windows at the beautifully manicured lawns and gardens she could see all around the Tudor-style house. "Not bad for a prison," she finally pronounced.

The Doctor held back on a sigh. He couldn't blame, her not really, because in essence, she was right; it was a prison. Still, he had to try… "Tegan, it's not a prison," he began, only to stopped by her raised hand.

"Right, it's not meant to keep me away from everyone in the universe, it's to keep them away from me," she said wearily, as if she'd been told all this before.

Which, of course she had. Still, it didn't mean she didn't hate it, the necessity of being plunked down on a planet in the middle of nowhere, one that had been isolated from the rest of the populated parts of the universe. One that had a large island on its toxic ocean deliberately terraformed and covered in a force-field and given Earth-normal gravity and air and temperatures, just for her. Her home away from home at the ragged end of time.

"How many people are around at the end of the universe, anyway?" she asked, peering over at him with an attempt at cheerfulness.

The Doctor appreciated the effort, raked fingers through blonde hair as he raised his eyes to the ceiling and tried to calculate. "Not many, certainly not 'people' in the sense that you'd count them. And none in these coordinates for many millennia in either direction, timewise. Or distance-wise. You'll be safe here, Tegan," he added, gentling his voice.

She sighed. "I know. Safe. No contact with other minds, no way for me to start going bonkers again."

She returned her attention to the large picture window they were standing in front of, gazing at the far-off woods that formed the edges of the property she'd been given. Inside the confines of that forest were lawns and gardens, hiking paths, fountains, stables, a garage with a slew of different cars from different eras, even a small airstrip and a couple of choice single-prop planes of the type she'd learned to fly when her dad was still alive. Surrounding that was the forest, miles and miles of nothing but trees and a few lakes and some mountains if she wanted to go exploring or skiing in the winter. There was even a bit of beach with some artificial tides in the water to make it seem like an ocean instead of a construct with a holographic horizon making it look bigger than it actually was…everything she'd thought up, the Doctor had provided.

"It's a lot nicer than the UNIT isolation ward," she acknowledged, making an effort to show that she appreciated everything he'd done for her.

It didn't help the Doctor's mood, and she didn't need to be able to hear his thoughts to tell that. Even his celery seemed droopy, defeated, and she knew it was because he hadn't been able to figure out a way to cure her, to free her completely from whatever malevolence the Mara had booby-trapped her mind with when he'd forced it out of her that last time.

The Doctor understood why she found it impossible to maintain a positive attitude for more than a few nanoseconds at a time; of course he did. He blamed himself, and when she wasn't blaming him and failing miserably at hiding it, she was blaming herself as well. "I chose to get back on the TARDIS that last time," she reminded him. And herself; she needed to remember it had been free bloody will that had brought her to this.

She felt him move closer, standing behind her but not touching her, not offering the comfort he'd tried to give her before. The comfort she'd rejected, but longed for. To never be around anyone else, ever again, it was more than she could comprehend, but comprehend it she would, as the days went on. And on, and on…

"I promised I'd keep trying to find out a way to cure you, and I will," he reminded her.

She closed her eyes and sucked in her breath at the feel of his hands hovering over – but not quite touching – her shoulders. "I know," she said tightly. "I know you will. Just like I know you'll never find it. If it was out there to be found, you'd have it already and none of this would have happened. One of your future selves would have risked a few broken Time Laws to drop it into your hand, or come to see me himself. Yourself. Whatever."

Of all the times for it to become too much, why now when he was there to witness the breakdown? She dropped her head into her hands, finally giving in to the sobs she'd been fighting for weeks, months, ever since finding out that the reason she was hearing other minds in her head was because the Mara had left her a lovely parting gift, one that had made its presence known once she stopped traveling in the TARDIS. A booby trap with a time delay to make sure it worked its insidious evil without the Doctor around to stop it.

This time the Doctor's hands landed softly on her shoulders, turning her so she leaned against his chest. This time, she allowed him to give her the comfort she so desperately needed. As his arms enfolded her shoulders, she knew the comfort wouldn't last, if her bleak prediction were to come true…

* * *

_A/N: Reposting this as an M story as it is on teaspoon. First bunch of chapters are pretty much the same but with some tweaks and fixes and, I hope, improvements. Things will be very different in chapter 8, "The Human Touch." Enjoy!_


	2. Back to Earth

**Six Months Ago**

"Peri, would you mind if we stopped on Earth for a few days?"

The Doctor's American companion frowned. "That's kind of an odd question, Doc. Why would I mind?" Her frown deepened. "Hey, you don't mean so you can send me home, do you?"

The Doctor shook his head, running distracted fingers through his short blonde locks before jamming his hat back on. "No, not unless you want to stay. But I've received a message from some friends of mine in UNIT, through K-9 of all things, and it looks like something they need my help with. Or rather, there's someone who specifically needs my help." He looked down at the console, then back up at Peri. "Someone who used to travel with me has been going through a…difficult time, and the UNIT, er, professionals, believe it's not…natural."

"Then we're definitely the ones they should be calling," Peri replied, trying to sound carefree, but knowing she was failing dreadfully. The Doctor didn't sound at all like himself, so somber and worried; whoever this person was, she suspected they meant a lot to the Time Traveler. "Is it anyone I know?" she asked sympathetically, putting aside the other question she had: who or what was "Canine"?

The Doctor shook his head. "No. Tegan left before you came aboard." He reached idly to touch a frond of his celery stick, then snatched his hand away as if caught scratching his nose in public.

Ah, the mysterious Tegan, Peri thought even as she wondered about the Doc's almost guilty reaction. All he'd ever told Peri about the mysterious Australian was the bare facts: Tegan Jovanka was an air hostess who'd accidentally wandered into the TARDIS because of the Master, a self-proclaimed "mouth on legs" who'd spent a great deal of her first time on the TARDIS badgering the Doctor to take her home, someone whom Turlough didn't seem to get along with very well. Someone who'd voluntarily left, much like Nyssa had, and he had told her much more about the young Traken woman.

_So what's the problem?_ She was about to ask the Doctor that very question when he ducked his head and appeared to become extremely involved in pushing buttons and pulling levers on the TARDIS controls, and Peri decided it could wait.

The Doctor looked up as Peri slipped out of the Console Room, relief clear in his cerulean eyes. Peri asking awkward questions was unavoidable in the long run - he'd told her just enough to pique the curiosity of even the most uncurious of beings - but right now he didn't have the energy to spare in explanations. Not when the information he'd received via K-9 was so sparse.

He reviewed the message once again, hearing the Brigadier's gruff tones as he reread the lines of text K-9 had forwarded: _"Doctor, old chap, writing this to ask for your help with a young lady who's had a bit of a rough go since coming home. UNIT shrinks thought it was just trauma from trying to readjust, but it seems to have some sort of telepathic element they can't puzzle out. Since this happened shortly after her traveling with you, thought it prudent to ask your help. Regards, Brigadier Allistair Lethbridge-Stewart, formerly retired. Back on Active again, don't you know. Look forward to seeing you, if this blasted dog-thing can do what Miss Smith says it can."_

The Doctor smiled, a smile that quickly faded. The date made it clear the Brigadier was talking about Tegan, and he knew that only desperation had forced this action upon his old friend. Old friends, plural, he corrected himself mentally; how the Brig had fastened upon K-9 as a means of communicating with a TARDIS was bound to be a story in itself, one Sarah Jane Smith would no doubt have a lot to contribute to.

That, however, was neither here nor there. "Nor am I," he said aloud. "Time to get this old bucket moving." He winced at the phrase that had slipped out; it was one of Tegan's less flattering nicknames for the TARDIS, but one could hardly blame her for feeling less than sympathetic toward a machine that consistently failed to bring her home upon demand…then contrarily managed to get her home when she truly didn't want to go. That had been a major miscalculation on his own part, leaving her at Heathrow. One she'd read him the riot act over upon her return a few months later.

"Perhaps the TARDIS knew best after all," the Doctor mused as the Time Rotor started ratcheting its noisy way up and down in the center of the console. "Knew your mind better than you did, and certainly better than I did." He grinned ruefully, grateful Peri wasn't here to listen to him muttering to himself like a senile old dodderer.

**oOo**

Earth was reached without incident, no hiccups or side-trips or delays, leaving the Doctor mildly relieved. Persuading Peri that she couldn't come with him, however, proved far more difficult. He finally had to invoke the specter of National Security to convince her that joining him at UNIT HQ was not going to happen, that she would have to wait for him elsewhere. Not, however, in the TARDIS; instead, he dropped her in London with her strict injunction not to leave her behind ringing in his ears.

An injunction circumstances would later prove useless, as an apologetic Lieutenant Benton would explain to her after her frantic telephone calls finally reached the proper level of the UNIT bureaucracy.

After dropping her off, the TARDIS materialized inside an aircraft hangar that held some distinctly UNIT-related aircraft, and the young soldier on guard took the sudden appearance of the "Police Public Call Box" in stride, detaining the Doctor only long enough to verify that the Brigadier wanted him in his office and to call for an escort: "Cos things have changed a bit since you were last here, I've been told."

Change they had, the Doctor noted wryly; some of the tech was decidedly ahead of its time, here in Earth's London of the mid-1980s. Ah well, he reflected, one can't keep fending off attacks from Daleks and Cybermen and Yeti and not expect there to be repercussions, however hidden from the general public they might be.

Once the Brigadier's office was achieved and the escort discharged, he was pleased to note how well his old friend looked as he reached across the desk to clasp his hand warmly. "Well, nice to see you haven't changed since I last saw you," the Brigadier offered by way of greeting. "Wasn't sure which one of you I'd get, truth be told."

"It was quite a chance you took, using K-9 to contact me," the Doctor said, settling into the indicated seat. "Really very clever as well. Your idea?" He was eager to learn what was going on, but one couldn't rush these things.

"Wish I could take the credit, old boy, but it goes to Lieutenant Benton," the Brigadier replied as he, too, took his seat. "He thought of contacting Miss Smith and, er, wangling the use of her dog."

"Lieutenant Benton," the Doctor repeated with a raised eyebrow. "Sounds like he's on the fast-track for promotion with that kind of thinking."

The Brigadier grunted his agreement. "Gunning for my job one day, no doubt."

"However clever he's gotten, Lt. Benton isn't the friend I've been asked here to see," the Doctor said quietly. Pleasantries were over, down to business.

"No." The Brigadier contemplated his desk top, then turned his gaze to meet that of the man sitting opposite him. "I gather you've figured out that we're talking about Miss Tegan Jovanka." The Doctor gave a tiny nod of acknowledgment. "I'm afraid she's not in very good condition."

"Not very good mentally, you mean."

The Brig shook his head. "No." He stood up abruptly, the Doctor automatically rising at the same time. "Shall we take a walk?"


	3. The Medium is the Message

**oOo**

Tegan was sedated; it was the only way she managed any peace of mind at all, and yet it wasn't a peaceful sleep. The Doctor frowned at the machines hooked up to monitor her brain activity, the frown deepening as he realized that even under heavy sedation she was still spiking strongly, reacting to something that didn't seem to be dreams. "What do you think it is?" the Brigadier asked, noting his reaction.

The Doctor shook his head. "I don't have enough information to be sure. Can I speak to whoever's in charge of her case?"

"That'd be me," a somber voice spoke up from the doorway. "Good to see you again, old thing."

"Harry Sullivan," the Doctor said with a pleased smile, accepting his old traveling companion's proffered hand. "Good to see you again as well, bar the circumstances."

"I'd rather it was just a social call, but you never seem to be on Earth just to make one." Harry eyed him somewhat askance. "Is that how it works, the rest of us look older and you start looking younger?" It was an attempt to lighten a moment that would become all-too-grim as the afternoon progressed. "Well." He cleared his throat. "Let's get down to it, shall we?"

"I'll be in my office, should you need me, Doctor," the Brigadier interjected. "All this medical mumbo-jumbo gives me a headache as it is; I'm sure once you get involved it'll just get worse." He gave the unconscious Tegan a compassionate glance. "As long as you can do something to help her, it'll be well worth it." He nodded, then turned on his heel and left the room, closing the door smartly behind him.

"Right, then; what have you got to tell me, Harry?"

**oOo**

The news was grim. Tegan had staggered into a hospital emergency room four months ago complaining of excruciating pain in her head before collapsing. MRIs had been taken, CT scans, the works, all showing nothing. She'd been sent home with medication only to find herself back at the emergency room a week later with the same symptoms.

A month of such ping-ponging had eventually driven her to the extreme of getting in touch with UNIT. One mention of the TARDIS had brought her an immediate connection with the Brigadier, who in turn had put her in touch with the UNIT Psychiatric Division. It wasn't until later that Harry had come into the picture, after the psychological element turned out to be telepathic.

"Yes, yes, and after that?" the Doctor interrupted impatiently. "What did you find out?"

"Not a damn thing," Harry admitted frankly. "We knew it had something to do with her time on the TARDIS, we eventually figured out that she was suddenly able to hear other people's thoughts, and that was it. We ran into a wall. Fortunately Lieutenant Benton thought of K-9 as a way of contacting you, and that was that. Since then the best we've been able to do for her is keep her isolated and sleeping a great deal of the time."

"No way to live a life," the Doctor murmured disapprovingly. Especially not for Tegan, as active and free a spirit as any he'd ever met… "Well. Let's get her onto the TARDIS, shall we? Give my medical bay a chance to check her out. No offense meant, of course," he added in belated apology for any unintended offense.

An apology Harry didn't need, as he pointed out. "Can't expect something telepathically affecting a former time-and-space traveler to be diagnosed with plain old Earth tech, Doctor; please, bring the TARDIS here by all means."

A short trip back to the hanger, the right buttons and levers pressed and pulled, and the time machine materialized in Harry's office, crowding the small room somewhat but leaving it navigable enough to maneuver Tegan's unconscious form through its doors.

**oOo**

As the TARDIS doors closed behind them, the Doctor and Harry watched in shock as Tegan's eyelids fluttered and opened; the sedative was supposed to work for at least another hour. She looked around, somewhat disoriented to find herself in the Doctor's arms. "Hey," she said weakly. "They found you."

"They did," he replied, offering a shy smile, not sure how she would react to his presence once she fully woke up.

Harry was fussing over her, but she waved him away irritably. "So? Am I cured? I feel better, lots better…wait, no, the pain's gone but there's still a voice in my head…" Her own voice trailed off as she swiveled her head to look at Harry, who had retreated a step. "Drat, that's you, isn't it, Dr. Sullivan?"

"Harry," he corrected her automatically, but the frown on his face deepened. "Does it sound worried?"

She nodded, then plopped her head against the Doctor's chest. "Yeah. So I'm not cured."

"Not yet," the Doctor corrected. "We're headed for the medical bay now, to let the TARDIS give you a look-over." He tried to keep his voice upbeat, for her sake, but the look she shot him said she wasn't fooled.

"I can walk," she muttered, but he tightened his hold on her and shook his head.

"You're still weak, and there's no point in making you walk when I can easily carry you. Besides," he added with another small grin, "you're barefoot and wearing a hospital gown."

She glanced down at herself with a huff of annoyance, then offered him a rueful smile. "Fine then. Carry me."

Harry hurried to the interior door, opening it for the Doctor then falling into step beside him, peppering Tegan with questions. Yes, the pain was completely gone, for the first time in months. Yes, she could still hear his thoughts buzzing around the back of her mind, and his emotions were very clear now that he was the only one she was sensing… "Why is that, Doc?" she asked, looking up at him curiously. "Why can't I hear you?"

"One of the many questions we'll attempt to answer today," he replied. "But I suspect it's because, as a Time Lord, I have very strong mental shields. But it's encouraging to know that being in the TARDIS blocks out the other thoughts you've apparently been bombarded with for the past four months."

"Yeah, it's a relief all right." Tegan's smile was sour. "But it's not exactly the cure I was looking for. No offense, but you know I had no intention of coming back."

"Right. It wasn't fun anymore," he replied, repeating her own words back to her and feeling her flinch, either at the words themselves or the flat tone with which he spoke them. He berated himself silently; now wasn't the time to get into hurt feelings and guilt, especially not with Harry listening in, however unwillingly.

As for the good doctor, he was lagging back a few steps and trying very hard to look interested in the TARDIS walls and floor, peering up at the ceiling as if seeing something new rather than the exact same place he'd left so many years ago… The Doctor frowned at that thought; he hadn't done any major interior reconfiguring of the TARDIS in centuries; perhaps it was time for a change. _Later,_ he chastised himself mentally. _Right now it's time to put your not inconsiderable mental powers to use on something far more important._

"So," Tegan said after a long, uncomfortable silence. "Where's Turlough?"

"Ah, yes, Turlough," the Doctor replied eagerly. A safe enough topic. "He went home, actually."

Tegan digested that thought in silence, shifting slightly in his arms as she recognized the medical bay doors ahead of them. "So you're all alone now?"

"Not exactly. I've a young American traveling with me, getting a taste of her first visit to London without an emergency hanging over her head, actually. Her name is Peri. I'm sure she'll be thrilled to meet you."

Tegan fell into yet another silence as they stopped in front of the doors long enough for Harry to push them open and allow them through. "Good," she said, just when the Doctor was afraid telling her about Peri had been a mistake. She looked up at him. "You need company, bouncing around the Universe like you do."

"Couldn't agree with you more," Harry said cheerfully as he stopped beside the scanning table and patted it. "Looks just as comfortable as the one at UNIT, doesn't it?"

Tegan made a sour face but offered no comment as the Doctor gently deposited her on the hard black surface. It was lightly padded, just enough to keep it from being completely uncomfortable. Just as she remembered.

She lay back obediently when the Doctor indicated she should do so. A few minutes were spent calibrating various pieces of equipment and murmuring words of encouragement, then it was time.

"It'll be nice to have a diagnosis that doesn't have to do with me going completely bonkers," Tegan said conversationally as the Doctor scowled over various computer screens, Harry peering curiously over his shoulder even though the readings, by his own admission, meant almost nothing to him outside the obvious ones for heartbeat, respiration and the simpler brainwave activity monitors.

"Tegan, be a good girl and stay quiet, will you?" was the Doctor's absent response.

Her own scowl beat his by a mile, but she kept her mouth shut until he turned back to face her, a serious expression on his face. "So, what's the word? Am I nuts?"

"Not completely, but you're well on your way if we don't find some way to fix this," the Doctor replied. No point in sugar coating it; she'd demand honesty even at the expense of comfort, every time. He looked at her, no humor in his eyes. "Tell me, Tegan, was it just the headaches at first?"

She nodded, biting her lip. "First the headaches, then the voices," she said quietly. "At first it was just one or two, like a murmuring in the back of my mind I couldn't quite understand, but it kept getting worse and worse. Even distance doesn't seem to help," she added, hunching her shoulders and clasping her hands together tightly.

"We tried putting her in an isolation ward," Harry put in. "But nothing seemed to stop the mental agitation except heavy sedation, and even then we only had moderate success, as you saw."

"So what's causing it, then?" Tegan demanded, her voice tinged with desperation. "What's it going to take to fix it?"

The Doctor sighed, then dropped onto the metal rolling stool and inched it closer to the scanning table and placing his hands over hers. "The answer to the first question, I'm afraid, is going to be easier to find than the answer to the second. My guess, at this point and without doing a full-on scan of your brain and mind – yes, two separate types of scans – is that you've been, well, infected is the best way to put it. Probably by the Mara."

A shudder went over her body at the sound of that hated name. "The Mara," she repeated bitterly. "Won't I ever be free of that blasted snake?"

"Yes you will, if I have anything to say about it," the Doctor replied firmly. "It's just going to take some time."

She sighed. "Right. Time. So let's get to it, then."

"Yes, let's," he replied, turning to Harry. "I'm going to have to treat you like a scrub nurse, I'm afraid," he said apologetically. "Asking you to fetch and carry is a bit beneath your skills…"

"But under the circumstances, the only help I can offer," Harry finished for him with a smile. "Shall I scrub up?"

The Doctor shook his head as he returned the smile. "Not necessary; remember, the entire medical bay is a sterile environment, we were thoroughly scanned and scrubbed of any contaminants once we entered the room. Unfortunately what ails Tegan isn't a simple biological agent. So." He rubbed his hands together. "Let's get started, shall we?"

**oOo**

Hours later they were no closer to finding a cure than they were when they started. The Doctor consulted every medical and psychological and psionic database the TARDIS could access, to no avail. The only thing they accomplished was confirming that whatever had happened to Tegan's mind, it had been done by the Mara, a sort of mind-bomb that had remained dormant until she was away from the Doctor – or at least, away from the presence of a Time Lord – for several Earth weeks.

"That's the medium, but what is the message?" he muttered to himself in frustration as he paced back and forth in the Console Room. Tegan was resting in one of the TARDIS' many bedrooms, not her old one, too many memories, but a new one to which she'd removed her personal belongings, the ones she'd left behind. She'd dressed herself carefully in a colorful skirt-and-blouse combination, sighing with relief as she put on the first pair of heels she'd worn in two months, then laughing at herself as she wobbled a bit before regaining her usual steady stride.

Harry had returned to his office, careful to open and close the door as quickly as possible, but even that brief moment had brought a flood of pain and the unbearable hum of a million minds pouring into Tegan's consciousness; she'd cried out in pain and nearly collapsed, but the Doctor had caught her in his arms and carried her to the room she now occupied. The pain had vanished as quickly as it appeared once the door was tightly closed, and he would have ample time to warn her before Harry or anyone else knocked for entry, but he wasn't looking forward to that. She'd gone so pale, the color draining from her face, her hands shaking, eyes rolling up in her head…No, he would prefer to spare her from that if possible.

The only problem was, it didn't appear to be possible. Whatever the Mara had done, it had done it well. Too well; the Doctor was rapidly coming to a very unpalatable conclusion.

The only place he might possibly find an answer was the Matrix.


	4. An Exercise in Problem Solving

**oOo**

"You want to take me to _Gallifrey_?! Have you lost your mind?"

The Doctor waited patiently for Tegan to stop shouting. Then he waited a moment longer, until she stopped pacing back and forth, her steps slowing as she stopped directly in front of him. She raised her eyes to meet his, chin jutted out defiantly. "Gallifrey? Really?"

He nodded. "Really. To consult the Matrix."

"You ran away from Gallifrey," she reminded him. Unnecessarily, but Tegan was never one to fear pointing out the obvious. "They tried to make you President, remember?"

The Doctor bit back a sigh. "Yes, Tegan, I remember. I remember it all, every moment of our little visit to the Death Zone and Chancellor Flavia's offer to reinstate me." A smile quirked the corners of his lips. "Remember, I made Chancellor Flavia temporary President in my absence; I'm sure she's grown used to the position by now and will be happy to hear I wasn't planning on taking it back."

Her glare deepened. "But you don't know that for sure, do you?" He shook his head. "And you still want to take me there? Why?"

"I told you. To consult the Matrix," he repeated patiently. "It may hold the answer to relieving you of your current condition."

"It may hold the key to imprisoning you on a planet you keep running away from," she replied hotly. "I'm not worth it, Doctor."

"Don't ever say that," he replied, more sharply than he intended, reaching out to grasp her arms, pausing on the verge of shaking her like a recalcitrant child. Her eyes widened and her mouth formed an "O" of surprise at the intensity of his reaction. "You're _all_ worth it, everyone who's ever traveled with me," he continued in quieter tones. "Especially you."

Before she could question that interesting little unintended revelation, he changed the subject. Back to the original topic. "So. Shall I leave you here on Earth, sedated and in constant pain, or will you come with me to Gallifrey while I consult the Matrix?"

"Well, when you put it that way," she muttered, shoulders slumping. He released his hold on her abruptly, turning toward the Console. "Good, that's settled then. I'll just send a message to Harry and the Brig and off we go."

"What about your new girl, Peri? Aren't you going to let her know you're leaving the planet without her?"

That caught him off-guard; he'd completely forgotten about Peri, he realized in a guilty rush. "Ah, yes, of course I will," was his hurried reply. "At least, I'll have the Brig hunt her down and let her know I had to leave. And that I'll be back," he added before Tegan could question him on that. "We are not staying on Gallifrey any longer than we have to." He hoped he sounded more confident than he felt.

Judging by Tegan's snort of disbelief, not so much. But he went back to composing the message, keeping it as brief as possible; the sooner he got Tegan to Gallifrey, the sooner she'd be back to her old self. Well, she was pretty much there, but as she'd already pointed out, staying locked up in the TARDIS for the rest of her life wasn't much of an option, and her continued sanity depended on more than just this temporary isolation.

Later he was to reflect on the irony of those thoughts and berate himself for such false optimism.

But that was later. Much, much later.

**UNIT HQ**

"Ah, you must be Miss Brown. Welcome to UNIT."

Peri took the extended hand, but her expression remained stormy. "Where is he?"

The Brig heaved an interior sigh; it was just like the Doctor to leave him to do all the explaining. "If you'll come with me, Miss Brown, I'll explain what's going on." He put his hand to the small of her back, indicating the door to his office with the other.

Behind her back Lt. Benton heaved his own sigh of relief; it had been a difficult ride back to UNIT HQ, with Peri pestering him the entire trip for details he couldn't offer, not knowing where the Doctor was himself. It didn't help that she was an attractive young woman, one whom he might consider asking out under different circumstances.

However, the circumstances were what they were, and so he watched with a mixture of regret and relief as the Brig's office door closed behind them. He traded glances with the corporal manning the front desk, then turned smartly on his heel and left before the shouting started.

It was a strategic withdrawal, he told himself as he double-timed it back to his own post. Not a retreat.

**oOo**

"What? When? Where did he go?"

Peri slumped back in her chair, shock writ large on her expressive features. Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart had prepared for the moment; he offered her a steaming cup of tea, liberally spiked with a dollop of brandy. Peri took the cup automatically, her eyebrows raising as she choked and swallowed the warming brew. "Alcohol? Is that SOP?"

"Under the circumstances, yes," he replied firmly. "I knew it would be rather a nasty shock for you, but please don't worry. He hasn't abandoned you; he'll be back."

"He'd better," Peri muttered, sitting up a little straighter. She took a deep breath, one the Brig wasn't too old to appreciate the effects thereof, then blew it out in an exasperated sigh. "I get that he needs to help, but I wish he'd waited for me before he took off!" She raised a hand to forestall the objection she saw coming. "I know, I know. He couldn't take me with him this time or it would make Tegan's condition worse. I get it."

"Is there anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable?" he asked after a moment. "I understand you've been sightseeing, perhaps you'd like a personalized tour of some of London's attractions? I'm sure Lt. Benton would be happy to escort you for the duration," he added. "That way you wouldn't feel as if, er, well…"

"As if I'd been abandoned?" Peri finished for him with a wry smile. She thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. What the hell. "Sure, why not. But you promise to contact us the minute he gets back, right?"

The Brigadier nodded, relief visible in his eyes. "Absolutely, Miss Brown. I'll have Lt. Benton return and explain the situation to him."

Peri's eyes gleamed with sudden mischief. "And I don't just want the usual stuff, either; as long as I'm stuck here because of the Doctor, I think it's only fair I get to see things other tourists don't, things off the beaten track, if you know what I mean." She offered up a sweet smile, which the Brigadier managed to return, if somewhat less than enthusiastically.

**Gallifrey**

"So. Here we are. On Gallifrey." Tegan gazed up and up at the soaring architecture. "Do things on a large scale, eh? Impress the visitors?"

"Actually, we generally discourage visitors."

Tegan turned to face the newcomer, an imposing older woman wearing the usual Gallifreyan garb, flowing robes in shade of blues and greens beneath the perplexing high-necked collar-thingy whose function she didn't understand unless it wa to keep people from looking at Gallifreyan necks. The over-the-top outfit was completed by cloak draped from just beneath that collar, trailing behind her as she rustled her regal way over to join them. "Doctor. How kind of you to find your way back to us."

"Councilor Ariana." The Doctor bowed politely. "I presume Madame President received my petition to access the Matrix?"

Ariana nodded, still radiating disapproval. "Of course." She turned her attention to Tegan, studying her from head to toe, raising a flush on the Earth woman's cheeks. "But why have you brought another alien here? Is not one enough?"

"How is Leelah doing?" the Doctor countered, pretending the question had some semblance of courtesy. "Andred treating her well, I hope?"

She raised a dismissive hand. "I have no idea. All I do know is that I was sent to greet you. To bring you to the Matrix."

The Doctor gave Tegan a triumphant look, then turned his attention back to Ariana and rubbed his hands together briskly. "Well, let's get to it then, shall we?"

"Shall I show your companion to a waiting room?"

The Doctor gave Tegan a questioning glance. "Tegan? How are you feeling?"

She smiled cheerfully. "Right as rain, Doc. Must be all Time Lords who don't affect me, not just you." She gave Ariana a neutral look. "Oh, and Time Ladies, of course."

"Are you sure you don't want to wait on the TARDIS?" the Doctor persisted. Just to be sure. They'd discussed it before landing, had tested her reactions by opening the door before fully emerging, but he wanted to be certain she remained free of the Mara's influence.

She shook her head. "No, but I don't want to be too far away, either. In case things do start picking up in here." She poked a finger against her head, then held out her hand. "Can I borrow your key?"

He handed it to her without a second thought. "Please bring Tegan to a waiting area near my TARDIS as she requested," he said formally.

Ariana bowed. "Very well. You know your way, Doctor." She turned her back and began walking, not bothering to turn as she spoke to Tegan. "Follow me."

The Doctor gave Tegan's arm an encouraging squeeze; offering up a brave smile, she turned and marched off after the Time Lady, her heels clacking noisily on the cool marble floor. A little too noisily; the Doctor smothered a grin as he realized she was stepping as loudly as possible, asserting herself even on Gallifrey.

He was pleased that the Citadel seemed to be keeping her as well shielded as the TARDIS; at least her stay her wouldn't be more unpleasant than she already seemed to feel it was.

Well, Gallifrey _was_ intimidating, even to someone who'd lived their entire life there. Not that he found it so; of course not. His leaving had absolutely nothing to do with intimidation and everything to do with curiosity and freedom…He hurried away in the opposite direction of the two women. The Matrix was waiting, and within its confines lay the answer to Tegan's problem.

**oOo**

When the Doctor emerged from the Matrix, he was faced with a visibly distraught Councilor Ariana. She made so bold as to grasp his arm. "Doctor, it's your guest, come quickly!"

He followed her, shaking off the usual haze that followed total immersion into Gallifrey's greatest information source.

A source that had proven a great disappointment, but there was no time to dwell on it, not if something was wrong with Tegan. "What's happened?" he asked as they trotted off in the direction of the hospital wing.

"Some sort of seizure. She was waiting in the room we set aside for her, when suddenly she grasped her head and collapsed to the floor. We've sedated her, Earth normal to match her physiology, but it's only affecting her conscious mind." She gave him a disapproving glare. "Why didn't you tell us more about her medical condition?"

"Because that's what we were here to try and determine," he replied shortly. "We have to get her back to my TARDIS." He found himself offering a prayer to an unspecified source that he hadn't done Tegan any irreparable damage in his arrogance.


	5. Jurassic Parking

**oOo**

Tegan blinked and opened her eyes, squinting against the brightness of the light. Where was she? She levered herself up on her elbows, wincing at the pain that shot through her head at the motion and closing her eyes once again. Stupid things were watering.

"I'll lower the lights, sorry."

Behind her eyelids Tegan sensed the darkening of the room and opened her eyes once again, blinking away the tears while looking around for the source of the apologetic voice. She saw the Doctor without recognizing him for a second, then everything came back to her with a snap. "What happened? Did I pass out?"

"Yes. Apparently Gallifrey isn't as salubrious a location for you as I'd hoped," the Doctor replied, moving closer, offering a hand to help her sit fully upright. She clasped it gratefully, swinging her legs over the edge of the narrow bio-bed.

"No, but it'll have been worth it if the Matrix told you how to fix things. So, what's the verdict, Doc?" Tegan tried to keep the hope muted in her voice and face, without luck.

She was still holding tight to his hand, and felt the bad news coming by the sudden tension in his fingers even before he opened his mouth. "Nothing? Not even in the Matrix?" Her voice rose shrilly at the last word as despair washed through her.

"Not 'nothing,'" the Doctor rushed to assure her. "There were one or two promising leads…"

"Promising leads." He was stopped by the bitterness in her voice, the defeated droop to her shoulders as she rested her chin on her chest, gazing down at her feet or at nothing at all; hard to see past the hair that fell into her face. It was very nearly to her shoulders now; no way to manage a trip to the hairdressers when the gossip was in your ears and in your head at the same time. "We went all the way to Gallifrey and the best you can come up with from your super-computer is 'promising leads'?"

"I'm sorry." He knew further words were inadequate to the situation, but tried anyway. "I truly am. We'll head back to Earth as soon as I have the information transferred to the TARDIS databanks…"

"Why bother?" Tegan interrupted, looking up at him finally. Yes, there it was; despair and anger vying for dominance in her eyes. "It's not like I can leave the TARDIS, not without being sedated again, and we've both seen how well that works."

The Doctor suddenly looked thoughtful. "Well, not Earth during your own time period, perhaps." He offered a tentative grin. "How do you feel about visiting the dawn of time?"

**oOo  
**

Tegan gasped with wonder at the sight that greeted them as they stepped off the TARDIS and into the pre-historic version of a tropical paradise. The Doctor had selected an isolated island deep in the Jurassic period of Earth's history, one with no signs of large predators to disturb them during their visit, only a scattering of mega-fauna of the plant-eating variety. Feathery fronds towered above their heads, the sun was setting over the ocean in a spectacular display no doubt assisted by the on-going volcanic activity of this period, and the only sound was the waves hitting the shore and the wind blowing through the fronds of the tree-like growths surrounding the TARDIS.

"It's beautiful!" she said as she gazed around, drinking in the tropical scenery.

"Yes, well, beauty is certainly one of the reasons I chose this particular place," he said after a moment. "More importantly than how it looks, how does it feel?"

She closed her eyes and raised her face skyward. "Peaceful," she said, echoing his earlier thought. "Quiet. I can't hear a thing in my head."

"Good." The Doctor rubbed his hands together. "Well, I'd best get my research started. Feel free to wander about, but remember; the sun will go down rather abruptly and there isn't any artificial lighting. Outside of this," he added, fumbling in his pocket and extracting a torch. He handed it to her and she took it, eager to begin exploring.

Before starting off for the shore, however, she paused and gave him a penetrating look. "No predators, right? You're sure?"

"Absolutely," he promised. "However, I wouldn't recommend taking a dip. There's no telling what's lurking beneath the ocean surface. On land, however, this island is currently predator free."

She smiled, not bothering to hide the relief in her eyes. Or the skepticism lurking not too far from the surface. "All right, Doc, I'll take your word on it. But I won't wander off too far. And leave the TARDIS door open. Just in case." With that final admonishment she strode off into the thinning foliage, headed directly for the beach, eyes still firmly on the hypnotizing beauty of the afternoon sky. After a few steps she stopped and slid out of her heels, taking them in her free hand and increasing her pace until she reached the sandy shore.

The Doctor tore his eyes away from her and headed back into the TARDIS, carefully wedging the door open with a rock, more as a show of good faith than because he was afraid it would accidentally swing closed. Once inside he set up a force-field that would only allow a Time Lord or human to enter; no need to spend time chasing inquisitive Jurassic-era critters back out again when it was time to leave.

**oOo**

Tegan returned a few hours later, to find the Doctor deeply involved in some kind of electronic files in the medical bay when she sought him out. She'd closed the door to the TARDIS, grinning at the sight of the rock wedged beneath it, pushing it aside but being sure to keep it within sight. If they were going to be forced to spend more than a single day and night here she was going to be doing a lot of exploring, otherwise she'd drive both herself and the Doctor crazy by bothering him every five minutes for an update.

Speaking of which… "Any luck?" she asked, keeping her voice low, feeling silly because there was no way she could startle him but not wanting to take the chance.

He finished inputting whatever data on the keyboard (_ And why does he use equipment that must be positively antique by Gallifreyan standards?_ part of her mind wondered idly) then turned to face her. "I'm really just getting started," he hedged, doing his best to sound upbeat. The sight of her certainly helped; she looked relaxed for the first time since their reunion. Her face had lost some of its pinched look, and the color was coming back into her cheeks. Good.

"Yeah, well, you know me, always impatient," she replied, keeping her tone light. "I guess I'll go find something to eat." She hesitated before asking: "You're not hungry, are you?"

He stretched and eased his shoulders. "Actually, a break might be a good idea." He didn't want her to know he'd already hit another wall; one of the few leads he'd found had been followed to a dead-end. Unless, of course, Tegan wanted to spend the rest of her life hooked up to machines that would keep her body in a permanent state of suspended animation with her mind completely shut down… No, best to keep that solution to himself. The situation wasn't completely desperate, not yet. He stood up and indicated that she should lead, then followed her out of the medical bay.

**oOo**

They shared a quiet meal, neither of them inclined toward conversation. Each was determined to show an optimistic front to the other, so there was a great deal of encouraging smiles between bites of food and sips of drink, but not much else.

Both were relieved beyond belief when the meal was over and each could once again go their separate ways. The Doctor disappeared back into the medical bay and Tegan headed back to the gorgeous beach, careful to lay her blanket away from the surf's edge. She'd seen distant sea creatures surfacing now and again, and didn't want to encourage any of them to come closer.

At nightfall she returned to the TARDIS, her optimism recharged but feeling a slight headache coming on. "Spent too much time in the sun," she muttered to herself as she headed for the medical bay. Just for some aspirin, she told herself, but really to check in on the Doctor's progress.

He didn't even look up as she entered, just gave a short, negative head shake as he heard the door swing shut behind her. She held back an impatient sigh and found the pain meds, then left. No point in hovering over him, at least not tonight. She ate a desultory supper alone, then retired to her room. This one, at least, came equipped with some fancy hi-tech video equipment with a ton of Earth movies programmed into it, some from her own era, some from eras gone by and quite a number of interesting looking films from her future.

Settling back against the headboard, changed into a pair of comfortable silk pajamas, she entertained herself with a romantic comedy starring someone called Keanu Reeves who was apparently about to become all the rage a year from her own personal timeline.

She awoke in the middle of the night, having dozed off well before the ending of _The Lakehouse_, disoriented and head throbbing with pain. Groaning, she rolled herself off the bed and plodded back to the medical bay in search of something stronger for her headache.

"If we were in my own time, I'd swear the Mara's booby-trap is back at work," she said aloud as she headed down the corridor. The lights felt too bright, and her stomach was feeling "tetchy" as her grandfather would put it. Like a migraine, or the aftermath of a hard night of partying. At least, she hoped that was all it was.

She was determined not to bother the Doctor if he was still at work; if the headache wasn't gone by morning, she'd let him know. She peeked in through the circular windows gracing the medical bay's double doors (so much like an operating theater back home) and saw the Doctor's blonde head bowed over yet another piece of sci-fi tech she didn't recognize. Yup, still at it. On the one hand a hopeful sign, that he was still hard at work; on the other, not so hopeful since it meant he probably hadn't found anything yet.

She debated trying to sneak past him in order to find the stronger meds her pounding head demanded, thus risking him interrupting himself to find out why she was there in the middle of the night, or just trying to sleep the pain away.

She decided to do neither, opting instead for a walk in the moonlight, to give her body time in the cool night air before trying anything else.

As she entered the Console Room, she realized she'd left the TARDIS door open. Even with the force-field in place it didn't seem like a very good idea. "Don't forget to close it behind you when you get back," she admonished herself, then slipped through the entrance and slowly strolled back to her favorite spot, the beach.

Five minutes later she was back, the headache and nausea having increased to the point where she could barely move, joined by a disturbingly familiar buzzing somewhere in the back of her mind. She dragged herself through the doors, making her way to the Console and heaving the lever to the "closed" position with limbs that felt like lead weights had been attached to them.

As soon as the doors closed, it was like a switch had been turned off in her body. The pain and nausea and sense of other voices in her head didn't just fade, they disappeared so abruptly she felt dizzy.

With a sick feeling growing in the pit of her stomach that had nothing to do with the headache that had just vanished, she pushed the door lever to the "open" position.

Within seconds her head began to pound, and she snapped the lever closed so quickly and with such force she broke a nail against it.

The sick feeling in her stomach growing with every step, she ran down the corridors to the medical bay. The Doctor had to be informed of this latest, entirely unwelcome, development.


	6. Dinosaur Thoughts

**oOo**

"Well? What is it now? Am I hearing dinosaur thoughts?"

"From what I can tell, the only minds able to affect you are sentient, so no, not dinosaurs. At least not during this era," the Doctor amended, looking over at Tegan.

She was sitting on the edge of the diagnostic bed, legs dangling, hands tight against the edge of the black surface, eyes boring into his the second he turned to face her. Before she could comment on that intriguing little statement, he continued: "However, at this time period various explorers were known to be investigating the Sol system, and the TARDIS has detected some kind of an outpost on Mars."

Tegan sat very still, absorbing that information. "So now I can hear people's thoughts when they're on other planets?" She sounded disbelieving, and the Doctor could hardly blame her, but nodded confirmation.

"All that means is we need to shift a little further ahead in time," he reassured her. "How does the Cretaceous sound, hmm?"

Tegan pulled a face. "About as appetizing a plate full of burnt cookies, Doc, but what choice do I have?" She jumped down from the bed. "Let's get moving."

The Doctor rose to his feet and headed for the medical bay doors, pushing one side open and ushering Tegan ahead of him with his free hand. "I've been working on a way to detect the presence of other minds before we leave the TARDIS," he told her, wanting to offer something in the way of optimism in light of their continued failures. "So a headache doesn't have to be our first warning sign."

"That would be nice," was Tegan's sardonic response. She tried to ease the anger in her voice by offering a wan smile. "Sorry, don't mean to be so negative, Doc, but this is getting really old."

"For me as well," he agreed gravely. "For me as well." He reached out and took her hand in his, squeezing her fingers gently.

They walked down the corridor hand in hand, Tegan trying not to read more into it than friendship and consolation. It was hard, when all she wanted to do was pull him closer for the kiss her lips had been wanting from him for far too many years now.

She knew better than to want something like that from him, but couldn't seem to help herself. It was one of the reasons she'd left, lying to him and running away on the London docks after telling him it wasn't fun anymore. No, it had stopped being fun, but the truth went far deeper than that. It had taken everything she had to keep from hurling herself into his arms, to restrain herself to extending her hand and offering a handshake for a good-bye.

Just as it took everything in her now, today, not to stop him in his tracks, push him up against the wall, and show him exactly what he'd been missing all those years. Only the part of her mind that was screaming at her that he was an alien and might not actually have the same sort of urges and needs and feelings for her that she had for him kept her still, just as it had kept her still the entire time she traveled on the TARDIS.

It was a question she'd never dared to ask, whether Time Lords were close enough to human that the possibility of physical intimacy even existed. He looked like a man, he acted like a man most of the time, but he wasn't human. He had two hearts and could sense and manipulate time and he didn't react to things the way she would expect a human to react.

And he was lovely and blonde with gorgeous blue eyes and a smile that melted her heart and hands that felt as warm and comfortable as any hands she'd ever held in the past. He had two arms and two legs and breathed oxygen the same way she did, had the basic physical form of a human male, but physiology didn't necessarily translate to physicality.

Such thoughts troubled her mind the entire time it took them to walk from the medical bay to the Console Room.

Still, she couldn't help noticing that he continued to hold her hand, his fingers interlaced with hers, nor could she help noticing how comfortable it felt to be walking with him that way, how natural.

How _right_.

**oOo**

Tegan was well sick of the small island long before the Doctor was able to make good on at least one of his promises. Her distaste had nothing to do with the scenery or even boredom; it wasn't so much the aloneness as the being alone with the Doctor. Her desire to be more than friends was exerting itself, intruding into her sleeping mind as well as insinuating itself into her daydreams. Lying on the beach she found herself wondering what he would do if he caught her tanning without her swimsuit; in bed at night she dreamed he came into her room and took her in his arms, only to waken and find herself alone and nearly sobbing with the effort it took to keep herself from jumping out of bed and seeking him out.

The day he announced he'd been able to cobble together a monitor that could read Tegan's brainwaves and set off an alarm if there was any sign of psychic or physical distress at a level below her conscious threshold of pain was the very day she'd decided she couldn't stand it one second longer. Thank God for the distraction. It wasn't much, but it was something.

They tested it on a quick jaunt back to the Jurassic period they'd just left, and found that it worked, at least against the alien minds settled in at their outpost on Mars.

"Why Mars, I wonder?" Tegan asked one afternoon at lunch. Another few weeks had passed, with the Doctor unwilling to move the TARDIS until he made more progress. An early warning system was all well and good, but it was hardly a long-term solution. "Why not here on Earth, or on the Moon, if they're observing us?" She waved her hand vaguely toward the door. "I mean them, the dinosaurs."

"What makes you think they're not observing life on Mars?" was the Doctor's absent response. He was squinting down at a paper print-out he'd been studying ever since lunch began, once in a while taking a bite to eat, generally at Tegan's prompting.

"Because there isn't any," was her automatic reply. Then, with an uncertain frown: "Is there?"

Before the Doctor could answer, if he was even going to, something on the page he was examining caught his attention. Tegan could tell by the sudden stillness that fell over his form, by the way his eyes seemed to glow with interest, and kept herself from pestering him only by the skin of her teeth.

Minutes passed without a word between them, without the Doctor so much as looking up from the document in his hands. When he did finally drag his attention back to the here-and-now, it was with an abrupt motion, the slapping of papers down on the table top, causing Tegan to jump, then glare at him. Translating startlement into annoyance was a particular talent of hers. "Cripes, Doc! Don't do that!" However, as she noted the expression on his face, her annoyance transmuted swiftly into alarm. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Tegan, come with me to the medical bay, please. I'm afraid I have to run some more tests."

She rose obediently to her feet, forehead creased in a frown. "Why? What's wrong?" She reached out and tugged him to a stop; he'd started moving before she did and was half-way through the door ahead of her as she half-ran to catch him up. "Doctor! Please, tell me what's going on."

His face was stony, cold, white with fury. Tegan recognized that look, and knew it wasn't directed at her, that it couldn't possibly be directed at her…still, she shrank back a bit when he swung his head around to face her. "The mental tampering the Mara's done to your mind, it's progressive. If I'm interpreting the data correctly," he slapped the pages with one hand, "then very soon even being in the TARDIS might not be enough to protect your mind."

They reached the medical bay in record time, as if the TARDIS sensed their urgency and removed a few corridors from its internal configuration in order to put that particular room closer to them than it usually was. Tegan took a seat on the diagnostic bed without being asked, swinging her legs up and maneuvering herself into a prone position. She gave not a murmur of protest when the Doctor wheeled some complicated piece of equipment over to her side and proceeded to attach it to her head, placing what she assumed were electrodes of some sort on her temples, at the tops of her breasts, on either side of her abdomen.

She didn't even comment when he opened up her blouse and unzipped her skirt, easing it down to rest on her hips, in order to reach the places he needed to place the sensors; nor did he ask permission. He moved almost robotically, his face devoid of expression except for the brightness of his eyes; always an unearthly blue, they seemed to glow with a kind of inner fire she'd heard described but never before truly witnessed. His movements were professional, impersonal, and so she felt no sense of embarrassment or arousal at his touch, nor did the situation allow for such emotions. Whatever the Mara had done to her, "progressive condition" didn't bode well.


	7. Full Circle

**Later**

Tegan was pacing, three steps forward, four steps back, until finally she stopped directly in front of the Doctor and glared up at him. "Let me get this straight. You're saying that somehow the Mara's turned my entire brain into a telepathic receiver? Are you _kidding_ me?!"

"Actually, what's is done is reconfigure your neurological pathways…" The Doctor's voice trailed off as Tegan's glare deepened. "Hmm, yes, well, I don't suppose you need to hear the technical explanation."

She shook her head. "No, I don't. What I need to hear is that now you've figured out what that bloody snake did to me, you can do something to _fix_ it."

The Doctor rested his hands on her shoulders, steering her gently back to the seat she'd just vacated. "Tegan, please, one step at a time."

Somehow sitting down didn't make her seem any shorter, especially when she was still glaring at him. "Can you fix it or not?" she demanded through gritted teeth.

"I don't know," the Doctor admitted, discarding the bedside manner he'd been attempting and speaking with the bluntness Tegan seemed to be demanding. "Nothing I've done so far has so much as slowed it, let alone reversed it. Discovering what the Mara did to you is just the first step; it's as if we're starting from the beginning."

Tegan crossed her arms and slumped in the chair. "Fine," she muttered. "Guess I'll go work on my tan. Again."

When she made to rise the Doctor held up a hand, an apologetic look in his eyes. "Er, sorry, but right now I need to run some more tests."

"Great," Tegan grumbled. "Back on the diagnostic bed?"

"No, just sit there, I'll bring the equipment to you," the Doctor replied, moving to do just that. He could give her that much of a respite from the medical bay.

**oOo**

Tegan's head ached, but this time it wasn't because of anything the Mara had done to her. Well, not directly, anyway. Eight solid hours with various pieces of electronic equipment sitting on one's head was bound to give anyone a headache. She swallowed two of the yellow pills the Doctor handed her, then dragged her exhausted self to the sauna for a good, long soak.

The next morning she awoke feeling refreshed; seeing no sign of the Doctor in the Console Room, she opened the doors and headed outside for her usual morning stroll. Finding a cure was the most important thing in the universe to her right now, but the walk would clear her mind and refresh her before the rest of the testing the Doctor deemed necessary was due to commence.

She was half-way back to the TARDIS an hour later when her headache started up again, a dull throbbing in her temples that seemed to be working its way across the rest of her head. She frowned; it felt like a slower onset of the pain caused by the pressure of other minds invading her own, but the Doctor had assured her there were no sentient beings in the solar system. Nor had her "early warning system" gone off; she glanced down at the wide leather band on her left wrist, but the needle on the dial was resting at "0".

"I guess the meds just weren't up to snuff," she concluded with a sniff. So much for alien aspirin. Or maybe it was just an atmospheric thing; her Aunt Vanessa used to get terrible headaches whenever a low pressure system was on its way in. Tegan glanced up at the sky, bright blue with not a cloud in sight, then shrugged. She'd just have to ask the Doctor for a couple more pills before they started the testing again.

**The Ends of the Universe**

Four months had passed since that day, that terrible day when they'd both discovered the true meaning of the term "progressive condition." If only she'd known how awful those two words could be…

Well, she knew now. They both did.

"Progressive condition." What it meant was that very soon even galactic distances weren't going to be enough to protect Tegan's mind from the thoughts and feelings flooding into it from billions and billions of other minds, human and otherwise. What it meant was that the Doctor could do nothing except mitigate the symptoms by removing her as far from such sentient minds as possible, in space and time.

It was why the Doctor had terraformed her a new home out in the middle of galactic –  
no strike that, _universal –_ nowhere. A beautiful prison, a prison with lots of things for her to do: a prison with a swimming pool and a bowling green and a tennis court and a series of robots with no chance of accidental sentience occurring in their rigorously programmed positronic brains to help her take care of the horses and maintain the aircraft and do the housework and play her at tennis or cards or fix up any injuries or illnesses she might contract.

It meant never again coming in contact with another living, thinking being.

No one except the Doctor.

The Mara had done its damage, planned it well, executed it even better; after months and months of trying, the Doctor had finally allowed Tegan to convince him to find her a safe place to stay so he didn't have to confine his research to the TARDIS, so he could go and consult with anyone he thought might be able to help. He had all her medical data, all the scans and tests and images and access to her any time he needed more.

"Just promise me you'll stop short of trying to find the Mara itself," she'd admonished him before they left the Cretaceous period. "I'm not desperate enough to wish that monster on anyone else."

"Nor would it even be feasible," the Doctor reminded her. "Remember, it exists only as a potentiality."

"Whatever that means," Tegan grumbled under her breath.

So here she was in her new home away from everything. And the Doctor was about to leave for what he promised would be a "quick trip" to consult with some scientists somewhere in the far past of the universe that might be able to help.

"I promised I'd keep trying to find out a way to cure you, and I will." The Doctor was standing behind her, patiently allowing her time to process, but he wouldn't be standing there forever. He would willingly exile himself to help her, to keep her company, but she couldn't allow that sort of sacrifice. Being out in the universe he had a better chance of stumbling across something that could help her. Even if, deep down, she didn't believe he would. And she needed to let him know that.

She closed her eyes and sucked in her breath at the feel of his hands hovering over — but not quite touching — her shoulders. "I know," she said tightly. "I know you will. Just like I know you'll never find it. If it was out there to be found, you'd have it already and none of this would have happened. One of your future selves would have risked a few broken Time Laws to drop it into your hand, or come to see me himself, yourself, whatever."

Of all the times for it all to become too much, why now when he was there to witness the breakdown? She dropped her head into her hands, finally giving in to the sobs she'd been fighting for weeks, months, ever since finding out that her life would remain a living hell unless she was cut off from every sentient mind in time and distance.

The Doctor's hands landed softly on her shoulders, turning her so she leaned against his chest. This time, she allowed him to give her the comfort she so desperately needed. Even his arms enfolded her shoulders, she recognized it for the illusion it was. If her bleak prediction were to come true, if no cure was ever found – and they both knew the odds were against them – then he was the last, the only, person she would ever see again.

She felt his chin rest on top of her head as her sobs abated. "Brave heart, Tegan," he murmured, rubbing gentle circles on her shoulder blades, a soothing motion she desperately wanted to misinterpret as something more.

Time to disentangle herself from his embrace before she made a fool of herself. "You'd better get going," she said, her voice harsh, not only from sobbing but from restrained emotion. She tried a smile through the tears that continued to trickle down her cheeks. "I've gotten your jacket all wet, salt water can't be good for the celery."

"Tegan, I don't have to leave just yet," he protested. "You know Peri is fine, if you're worrying about her; Lt. Benton seemed quite taken with her," he added by way of trying to cheer her up. Or at least distract her. "There are still some things I need to set up in the laboratory as well."

The lab was underground, directly beneath the house, and fitted out with all sorts of medical equipment, computers, and, most importantly, a direct link to the TARDIS. It was also, Tegan knew, finished. The Doctor was just offering her a plausible excuse to stay with her for few more hours, and she appreciated it but had to learn to be on her own sooner rather than later, and told him so in a sharp voice that only held a hint of hysteria around the edges. "Just go," she implored him, stepping back until stopped by the window ledge. "You'll be back in a few weeks or months or whenever, sooner if I need you; you told me so yourself. So don't put it off any more. Just go."

He regarded her with a worried frown, then sighed in defeat and headed for the door. The TARDIS was parked outside on the front lawn; he could hear the hum of a lawnmower, operated by one of the dozens of robots he'd designed to help her out, busily cutting grass to the left of the driveway. In the driveway itself sat a low red convertible, the car Tegan had chosen out of the many others to be her "first ride." The top was down, the black leather interior looked inviting, and he hoped she would take it up on the offer of speed implicit in its design. She loved driving fast, and the robots and monitors would ensure that nothing would happen to her no matter how fast she went.

As he placed his hand on the handle, about to close the door behind him, he heard her voice again.

"Wait."

* * *

_A/N: Next chapter features romantic fluffy smutty goodness. Promise._


	8. The Human Touch

**A/N: Here it is, the promised M chapter. Warning for/promise of explicit sex!**

* * *

The Doctor stopped; her voice had come from directly behind him. He turned to face her. Seconds ago she'd been practically pushing him into the TARDIS; what changed her mind?

Terror, he decided, studying her pale face. Sheer, unadulterated terror. He stepped back into the foyer, closing the door behind him, watching her. Gauging her. What did she need from him, besides company? The only other person in the universe whose thoughts didn't intrude on hers. Someone she'd always been attracted to, if he remembered her body language as well as believed he did.

He'd never allowed his own attraction to show, he prided himself on that much. Getting involved with a traveling companion, especially one with so significantly shorter a lifespan as a human was fraught with so many complications it staggered the imagination.

And now? Humans needed touch, Tegan more than many. He'd always instinctively responded to that aspect of her. The question was, how far was he willing to go?

"I don't want to take advantage of you, Tegan," he said, wanting to make everything clear from the start, startled to realize that he'd already reached a decision without consciously being aware of that fact. "I don't want you to resent me because the Mara has forced you to become dependent on me. I don't want," he added, surprised at the thought but forcing himself to voice it, "I don't want you to think I haven't been trying my hardest to help you, that I _want_ you to have to depend on me."

She moved a step closer, then another, closing the distance between them. "I'd never believe you capable of such a thing." Another step, then another, and suddenly she was standing in front of him. "I know you can't stay forever, that's crazy, but I need you. Right now, I need you." She placed a hesitant hand on his cheek, and he turned his head to place a soft kiss on her palm. "I need you," she repeated in a whisper, then turned her lips up for the kiss he knew he was incapable of withholding.

His arms encircled her shoulders, pulling her closer, and he felt her hands sliding their way up his back under his jacket. The next move would be to slip it from his shoulders, and he released her just long enough to allow the motion, to shrug the coat off so it fell in a heap onto the hardwood floor. Then his hands were back on her shoulders, and her lips were impatiently opening beneath his, her tongue darting out to meet his, her eyes clenched shut, her hips grinding against his, and making it quite clear exactly what she needed of him.

Touch, human-style.

Sex.

He swept her up into his arms and took the stairs to the next floor two at a time. He stopped at the first bedroom, nudging the door open with one foot, negotiating the entry with ease in spite of his rather pleasant burden. Tegan was usually so spiky that he half-expected her to feel that way even in an embrace, but the truth was she was a warm, comfortable armful. She felt so natural as he held her that he wondered with a jolt if he'd done them both a disfavor by avoiding this sort of intimacy with her in the past.

Oh, he'd held her this way before, certainly, but never with this intent; carrying her into the TARDIS medical bay in much the same manner as he was holding her now never felt so fraught with possibility. He'd never allowed himself to be so aware of her femininity, of the curve of her body, the feel of her head nestled against his shoulder, her arms around his neck. But he was aware of it now, fully aware, man to woman, and reveled in the feeling even as he regretted the reason she'd reached out to him this way.

That thought nearly caused him to change his mind, to back out of the implicit promise he'd made by accepting her kiss, by sweeping her off her feet and dashing up the stairs to the first convenient bedroom; wasn't he taking advantage of her need, her loneliness, her despair?

One look at her face told him otherwise, stilled the second thoughts before they could become words and reach his tongue. This was something Tegan had always wanted, it was there in her eyes, in the way her hands reached out so eagerly to unbutton his shirt and fumble the belt from around his waist and tug at his trousers and what lay just beneath those few layers of fabric. And he wanted it, too; perhaps not under these circumstances, but he was honor-bound not to lie to either of them about what was happening.

He'd never allowed it on the TARDIS, never allowed himself to consciously feel the attraction towards Tegan that was almost drowning him now. Nor had he allowed himself to recognize her own attraction to him. Foolish on his part, sensible on hers, to keep each other at arm's length whilst they traveled together. If he'd given her a single sign that he recognized her as a beautiful woman and not just a mouth on legs they would have come together that much sooner.

And perhaps she never would have left him, never would have fallen prey to the Mara's trap. Or at least, not until much later, until she'd been given the opportunity to live out much more of her natural life than she'd been granted so far.

He pushed that thought to the back of his mind. Second guessing was a futile, useless habit into which he tried not to fall. And multi-tasking might be a specialty of sorts for Time Lords, but Tegan required his full attention right here, right now, and he owed it to her to give her what she needed.

What they both needed.

**oOo**

Tegan gazed up at the Doctor as he knelt above her as she reclined back on the queen-sized bed. He was unbuttoning his shirt, and although part of her longed to reach up and simply tear the buttons off, the rest of her was enjoying the sight.

She was still fully clothed, all but the shoes she'd kicked off as they entered the room, the feel of the Doctor's arms around her still resonating even with the small distance that now separated them. She continued to watch as he somewhat self-consciously removed his trousers, fingers hesitating on the band of his underpants before stripping them off as well.

She knelt up to join him then, bodies pressed closely together, allowing him to unzip her leather mini skirt as she explored the golden-haired expanse of his chest with her finger tips. He leaned forward to kiss her, and suddenly the clothing remaining between them was too much; she pulled back, dragging her blouse up over her head, laughing with delight as she felt his fingers nimbly work the hooks of her bra, removing it in record time while she wriggled her way out of the skirt he'd already undone. Only her panties were left, a silky bit of lace she'd worn more to lift her spirits than out of any kind of premonition.

"Lovely," the Doctor breathed, but whether he meant the panties or the sight of her shimmying out of them, she wasn't sure. Nor did she care as she pressed herself against him, reveling in the feel of him against her, his skin cooler than human norm but warming up rapidly, especially in a certain portion of his anatomy.

Tongues met in an anxious duel as their kisses deepened, and neither was shy about exploring the other's body. Moans escaped Tegan's lips as the Doctor's hands caressed her back, shoulders to buttocks, fingertips pressing lightly at spots that elicited even deeper moans as well as shivers of pure pleasure.

He laid her back gently, her legs tangled around his, fingers and lips continuing their mutual exploration of each other's bodies. He found the erratic pulse at the base of her throat and brought her heart racing even faster merely by fastening his lips there, nipping gently as she sucked gently at his earlobe. Tegan's fingers wandered downward, brushing against the tip of his cock with feathery movements that brought a groan out of his throat. She smiled against his neck, a smug, triumphant smile that quickly vanished, lost in a nearly soundless squeal as his hand joined hers between them, fingertips inserted between her legs just enough to show her he knew exactly what he was doing.

His lips wandered from her neck, their bodies separating just enough for him to bring his mouth to her breasts, teasing the nipples, nipping and kissing, tongue darting out to flick each rosy tip, every move eliciting further squeals of delight from Tegan's lips. Her head landed softly back on the pillow as she lost herself in the feel of his mouth and tongue and fingers, still probing delicately, thumb moving in one direction, fingers entering and easing themselves free until her hips moved of their own volition to meet his increasingly urgent rhythm.

She cried out as she reached her climax, clutching his free hand to her cheek, raining kisses on his palm even as her body shuddered and twitched and radiated the excess energy he had inspired.

The Doctor kissed his way back to her lips, gently sliding his fingers free and enfolding her in a fierce embrace, just as fiercely returned, arms and legs twining themselves about his body, lips meeting his for a fervent round of deeply satisfying kisses. She encouraged him to enter her without a single word, easing her legs apart, begging him with eyes and body. He smiled and slid into position, thrusting into her with a steady, hypnotizing motion. She was the one who increased that movement with insistent up-thrusts of her hips, legs wrapped around his waist, holding him close to her breast and murmuring breathless words of encouragement into his ears the entire time.

When she reached her second climax, he performed the miracle of all miracles, arriving at the apex of pleasure at the same time she did, pressing a forehead glistening with sweat into the hollow of her throat, listening with quiet satisfaction as she cried out her pleasure again and again.

* * *

_A/N: Oh, in spite of calling this "THE" promised M chapter, there will be future chapters with explicit stuff as well. Just thought I'd let you know what you had to look forward to!_


	9. After the Lovin'

**The Next Day**

When Tegan awoke the next morning, the Doctor was gone, this time for real, although not for good. Never for good, not as long as she was trapped in this existence.

It was what she'd expected, to wake up alone in a bed that still smelt of sex and sweat, but tears filled her eyes nonetheless. She had a vague recollection of his lips on her forehead, a murmured "good-bye" whispered against her ear, then sleep had completed its task and wafted her into dreamland.

And now it was morning. She rolled over and stared blankly at the wall opposite what was now and forevermore "his" side of the bed. She should get up, she supposed, but to do what? For once in her life she could lounge in bed all day even if she wasn't sick.

Big deal.

She rolled onto her back and faced the other way, towards the window. The "sun" was shining; the Doctor had scheduled random weather patterns that she could override if she felt like it, and although she felt like it should be raining to match her emotions, it wasn't worth the effort of getting up and going downstairs to program the change.

Instead, she groped for the pillow next to hers on the queen-sized bed and held it up to her face. Inhaling deeply, she breathed in the Doctor's scent, then clutched it tightly to her chest and allowed the tears to fall.

**oOo**

She mustered the energy to crawl out of bed late in the afternoon, ignoring the sight of her new home's artificial "sunset" as she headed downstairs, pausing only to throw on a housecoat.

She thought about that as she padded barefoot down the wooden staircase. Why bother with covering her nudity when the house was a comfortable 21ºC and no one to see her? The robots certainly wouldn't care. And if the Doctor walked in? Well, he'd seen her naked body already and demonstrated to their mutual satisfaction his appreciation of her in such a state.

Still, old habits die hard; some never died at all. Case in point: in all the time she'd spent running, literally _running,_ around the universe, she'd always done so in the high heels she'd sported since realizing she would always be the short girl.

That type of trivial drivel meandered its way through her consciousness as she meandered her way through the house. No matter what room she paused in, the only thing she knew that it wasn't the one she wanted to be in. Even in the kitchen she only stopped long enough to make a strong cup of tea, afterwards bringing the delicate china cup with her in her restless wanderings.

She ended up on the patio, dropping heavily into a lounge chair that adjusted itself subtly to her contours until it became the most comfortable chair she'd ever sat in. The sun had finished setting and the stars were out. The one thing she'd insisted on being real in her simulated home was the night sky; the Doctor had tried to argue her out of it, but she was adamant. "I don't want to be able to delude myself into thinking everything's fine," had been her grim argument, and the sparse sprinkling of stars in the sky went a long way toward reminding her that, no matter how earth-like and beautiful her new home, it was still an alien world at the temporal ends of the universe.

After a while the cool night air drove her back into the house, to settle on the sofa and flick through channels and channels of shows and movies and plays and musicals, settling on nothing for longer than a few seconds at a time.

The restlessness finally resolved itself when she wandered back into the room that had been set aside as an artist's studio on the second floor of the sprawling, six bedroom house. The skylight in that room, as well as its multiple windows, always showed a sunny outlook, so she could work at any time of the day or night, never mind the weather.

She opened up a drawer at random and saw a cache of artist's pens and pencils, charcoals, brushes, sharpeners, everything she could possibly want, and was seized with the desire to paint, to draw, to do something to visualize her feelings. Another drawer revealed paper, loose and in pads; there were canvases of all sizes leaning against the walls, a pair of easels, and a sense of peace settled over her as she selected an artist's sketch pad, a set of pencils, and settled back into the one overstuffed chair in a corner of the room and began to draw.

**oOo**

When the Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS and knocked on the door, there was no answer. He questioned the security system he'd installed as to Tegan's whereabouts; being given the answer "asleep in the studio" he smiled and pushed the door open.

Ascending the stairs as quietly as he could, he listened closely for any sign that Tegan was stirring, but the house remained as silent as the grave. He frowned as that simile popped into mind, then pushed aside his momentary unease. He'd already been told she was asleep in the studio, not "lying unconscious".

He walked down the hall; seeing the studio door half-open, he peeked in to see gauge her condition for himself.

Asleep as advertised. He stood in the doorway, quietly studying her. She was curled up on the room's comfortable armchair, head tilted back slightly, a sketch pad dangling precariously from the fingers of one hand. He moved to her side, reaching out gingerly to take the pad in his hand, intending to place it on the table next to her, but found himself arrested by the sight of what she'd drawn.

The snake was finely, almost lovingly, detailed. It was entwined around the form of a woman, her upturned face obscured by the body of the oversized reptile, but easily recognized. Her arms were either embracing or tugging at the coils, he was uncertain as to which interpretation and suspected Tegan didn't know, either.

He hadn't intended on returning so quickly after leaving her, but the idea of Tegan being left alone for long periods of time tugged at his conscience. Peri was once again holidaying on Earth; at least this time she understood what was going on and why she couldn't travel with him to visit Tegan.

"I thought I heard you." With a guilty start he dropped the pad on the table and looked down at Tegan.

She mustered up a smile for him, then glanced down at her handiwork. "What do you think? Suitably Jungian?"

"It's executed very well," he replied, dropping lightly to his haunches and reaching up to capture her hands in his. "Wrestling with the situation via pen and paper?"

"Pencil and paper," she corrected him, squeezing his fingers lightly. "You're back early. Any luck?"

His face clouded. "None so far," he admitted.

"How long were you really gone?" she pressed.

The Doctor hesitated before answering. "Come on, you can tell me," Tegan urged with another squeeze of the fingers. "Be honest."

"About six months," he finally admitted.

Tegan sat back, absorbing that information thoughtfully. "Six months," she finally said, a catch in her voice. "Six more months of research for you, one day of exile for me, and still nothing." The catch threatened to turn into a sob, but, stubborn as always, she forced it back down. "This is going to get old very quickly, Doc," she whispered.

"I know." He loosened his hold on her fingers only to reach up and touch her chin. "I'll never give up."

"And I'll go completely mad if I have to live out every day like this," Tegan replied. "So I'm going to ask you to do something for me. Something I don't think you'll want to do."

He tilted his head enquiringly, although in the back of his mind he had his suspicions. "What might that be?"

Tegan took a deep breath before speaking. Bracing herself. "I want you to make me forget that I'm here permanently."

She fell silent, studying his face, seeking his reaction to her request before speaking again. Seeing his dismay, the protest he was about to make, she reached up and pressed a finger against his lips. He remained silent, allowing her to finish her unorthodox request.

"I want you to make me think that this is a vacation of some kind," she said after a moment. "I want to wake up every day thinking I'll only be here a week or a month or some definite, limited period of time. I want you to make me believe that, and to reinforce that belief every time you visit so I don't slip and start remembering, because if I do, then there's no telling what I'll do. I can feel it in me now," she added with a shudder. "I spent the day in bed, Doctor, I just couldn't take my mind off of my situation, as you might have been able to tell." She jutted her chin toward the drawing. "I want you to make it so I never realize exactly how much time has passed, either, at least until I start showing signs of aging."

Before he could argue that it wouldn't come to that, she raised a finger to his lips, silencing the protest she saw in his eyes. "We can work out the details, but I want you to do this for me. Please."

There was true anguish in that last word, and the Doctor realized she wasn't just asking this on a whim, that it was truly what she wanted and needed in order to keep her sanity. "Gallifreyan hypnosis is very powerful, and I haven't used it in a long time," he said slowly. "But if it's truly what you want…"

"It is," she insisted. "The only thing I don't want to forget is what happened between us here," she added, a real smile adorning her lips for the first time in a long, long while.

"Well, that was fairly unforgettable," he admitted, meeting her smile with one of his own. Gently he touched his forehead to hers. "And I hope it won't be the last time you let me…"

She kissed him, silencing him in the most effective manner she'd ever devised. "Whenever you like," she told him a few, breathless moments later. "Whenever you like."

**oOo**

He did it the next morning, exactly as she'd asked him to. "Each day will seem like the beginning of a vacation," he told her before setting to work. She was seated across from him on the sofa. They faced each other, the picture-window to one side, the coffee table and fireplace opposite, backs to the ends of the sofa. "When something spectacular happens — that's not what I mean," he interrupted himself sternly when she gave an impish waggle of the eyebrows. "When anything memorable happens — well, yes, I suppose I do mean that as well," he conceded after a second's thought on the matter, "then you'll remember it, but all other details will be blurred; you won't remember when it happened exactly, nor will you care."

"Before you ask again, yes, I'm sure I want to do this," Tegan said, making her voice and expression as firm and unyielding as she could. "When you find a cure, if you ever do, then we'll deal with the consequences."

"I'll bring you out of it periodically," he said. "That's absolutely necessary, so don't argue with me," he added when it became clear she intended to do exactly that. Her expression remained mulish but she kept her mouth shut. "Especially if I have anything to update you with other than 'more of the same.' You'll remember everything but it won't alarm you, won't make you panic about lost time; you'll come out of it knowing the facts exactly as you do now. That's my only condition, and you must abide by it."

He waited for her to nod before continuing: "I'll keep the time you're under as short as possible for you, no matter how long it takes me; in fact," he added as inspiration struck, "why don't we put this off for a week of real-time for you, hm? I'll spend as long as I need to in the interim…"

"No," she refused, panic adding a sharp edge to the word. "No, I don't want to take that chance; suppose you never come back?" She reached out to press a finger against his lips. "You and I both know it could happen, and if it does I'd rather just spend my last years in a dream, not missing you, rather than a panic or depressed. So just do it, do it now and get it over with."

He knew that tone of voice; there was no arguing with her. Of course, once hypnotized he could simply make her believe that she _wanted_ to wait out the week he proposed, but that would be unethical, even if it was truly what he believed to be for her own good.

No, Tegan deserved better than that, better than all of this, in fact, but this was the hand the Universe or Fate or whatever you wanted to call it had handed her, and this was her chosen method of dealing with that hand. Bowing to the inevitable, he began. "Tegan, I want you to listen to me…"

* * *

_A/N: In the next chapter, change is in the air. Hint: Not a change Tegan wants to see, although she does come to accept it. _


	10. A Changed Man

_A/N: Warning for angry sex. Or promise of angry sex? :)_

* * *

**Sometime Later**

"Doc, you've got to tell her."

He waved a hand over one shoulder in a shooing motion. "No, I don't. _He_ has to tell her."

"Well, _he's_ dead, so that might be a little hard for _him_ to do."

The Doctor heaved a deep, heartfelt sigh and turned to face Peri. "All I meant was that it's up to him to continue with this futile exercise, in his timeline. Just because he's gone doesn't mean I have to carry on with his obsession."

"It's not an obsession," Peri objected, moving around the table to confront the Doctor face to face. She planted her hands on the table amid the electronic debris of his latest experiment and stared at him challengingly. "It's trying to save someone's life. I know you've changed, but I can't believe you've changed that much!"

The Doctor's sixth self glowered down at her, studying her brunette bob, her upturned nose, the frown marring her otherwise pleasant features, the red top tied under her ample bosom, the way her fingers clenched and unclenched as she gave vent to her frustration. Right now every single detail of his American companion irritated him, not an infrequent reaction on his part, but he knew he was mostly upset because she was right.

"It's your responsibility," Peri pressed, sensing victory in the way he stayed in the room and didn't just storm out like he had the last time she'd brought it up. "You made a promise…"

"_He_ made a promise," the Doctor retorted with a sneer. "That fair-haired cricketer, that namby-pamby, celery-wearing _failure_."

"Stop it!" Peri cried, staring at him in concern. His face was red, and this time his hands were the ones clenching and unclenching against his sides as his chest heaved and his eyes radiated such intense anger she was sure he was being scorched from the inside out. She reached out, greatly daring, half leaning across the table to touch his arm. "He's not…_you're_ not a failure! The answer is out there somewhere, it has to be! You can't give up just because you regenerated!"

"And Tegan deserves to know the truth," he agreed in a low voice as his face slowly returned to its normal color. He raked fingers through his unruly mop of blonde curls. "Blast it, why do you have to be right?"

"It's a gift," Peri said with a shrug, relieved that she'd finally gotten through to him.

It had been an uphill battle with this version of the Doctor, from the moment he regenerated and tried to kill her in some kind of psychotic fugue state. After that unpleasantness had been forgiven, trying to get him to visit Tegan and explain what had happened to "her" Doctor had become the hardest part of that battle.

"What if I end up hurting her? What if something about regeneration has altered my brain chemistry, caused whatever it is about me that wasn't affecting Tegan to disappear?" He sounded like a little boy, lost, afraid, then the moment passed and he straightened up. "But there's only one way to find out, isn't there."

"Yup," Peri replied, keeping her tone gentle but firm. "You have to visit her. I'll stay here." She gestured vaguely toward the door, to indicate her willingness to remain on Earth while he took the TARDIS. "Just remember to come and get me when you're done."

He offered up a cheeky grin. "No promises," he said as he headed for the door. Peri chased after him, an anxious frown creating lines between her eyebrows. He was just kidding, wasn't he?

"Doc!" she called out as the door swung shut behind her. "Doc! You won't leave me stuck here, right? Right?!"

**oOo**

The planet was exactly as he remembered it, and why shouldn't it be? There was no one around to make changes to it, no other planets to collide with it, not even an asteroid belt to rain meteors on it. It was an isolated rock, orbiting in solitary majesty around a star far too robust for the tag end of the universe, an anomaly that happened to meet his exacting criteria once upon a time.

He remained suspended in space above the planet, studying Tegan's bio readouts, looking for any sign that she sensed his presence. Her brainwaves remained steady; she was awake, her heart rate and adrenalin levels showed she was doing something to exert herself — driving too fast, or flying, perhaps — but there was no sign of undue influence on her mind, no sudden burst of pain to indicate he'd brought harm to her by his mere presence. Good.

The true test, of course, would be when he landed and left the TARDIS. "No time like the present," he told himself, and set the coordinates from memory. No amount of regenerative trauma could burn those numbers from his mind. Nor could it burn away the memory of how his relationship with Tegan had transformed itself on that very planet, although he shied away from those memories as if they actually _did_ burn. He was a Time Lord, after all, and that sort of nonsense was supposed to be beneath him.

He kept such thoughts firmly locked down as he opened the exterior TARDIS door and studied the readout on the hand-held monitor he'd rigged up. Tegan's brainwaves remained well within normal parameters, although her other vitals had slowed somewhat, indicating that she'd stopped whatever it was that had set her heart racing only a few minutes earlier.

He waited a full five minutes longer, studying the monitor intently before snapping it shut and starting down the path toward the main house, where the bio readings indicated Tegan was headed.

He couldn't believe how nervous he felt. After all, it wasn't as if he hadn't delivered bad news in the past; hell, he'd even delivered it in the future.

The joke fell flat even in his own mind. "Note to self, avoid career as comedian," he said aloud as he reached the front door of the house he'd helped Tegan design.

He'd have to take her out of the hypnotic state of happiness he'd allowed her talk him into imposing on her. Then he'd have to break the news, if she couldn't guess it already. After all, it wasn't as if she had hoards of strangers knocking on her door these days.

These days…how many days, weeks, months had passed since his previous self last visited? In a sudden panic he ran figures through his mind, came up blank. Well, he should be able to tell when he saw her, and there was no time like the present. He put his hand on the doorknob and turned it.

**oOo**

Tegan dashed into the kitchen, allowing the French doors to slam shut behind her. She was laughing, shaking dampness from her hair, wearing only a miniscule black bikini that put Peri's favorite bathing costume to shame. She held a bright green towel in one hand but didn't bother wiping herself down, allowing the water still dripping from her body to splash onto the tile floor, leaving damp marks behind with every footstep.

She paused, perhaps sensing his presence; he was certain she couldn't actually feel his mind, regeneration did not appear to have changed his brain chemistry enough to affect her. She turned slowly, clutching the towel in both hands, eyes wide as she took in his altered appearance.

"Doctor?" she said, slowly, hesitantly, a frown etching itself between her eyes. "I don't…"

He cursed himself for forgetting, for letting it go this far before saying the words that would bring her back to herself again. He did so, rapidly, almost stumbling over the phrase, grateful he still remembered that as well, that he hadn't forgotten between the now of his new existence and the then of his last visit, (_When had that been? How long for her, how long for him?_),ready to catch her if she fainted as she sometimes did.

The color drained from her face and she stumbled a bit but didn't collapse, simply remained where she stood, leaning a bit against the tile-covered countertop, staring, staring, as if something might happen if she took her eyes off him.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up one hand, stopping him cold. "Don't," she choked out. "Please. I don't want to know."

"Tegan, I need to tell you…"

She shook her head, then straightened, releasing the counter and walking rapidly toward him. He realized with a start that this might be the only time he'd ever seen her standing up without wearing heels. And he was taller than he'd been, although not as tall as he was the time before that. She stopped just short of him, studying his altered form, frowning as she took in his new appearance, including his colorful new wardrobe.

"Your taste in clothes could use a regeneration," she muttered, finally wiping herself with the green towel, a slow movement he tracked without meaning to, watching as the towel moved from shoulder to waist to hip before she clutched it tightly in both hands. Hands that were shaking, and that brought him back to himself, to the present moment.

Reaching out, he took her gently by the arm and guided her to the sofa, sitting opposite her while she regained her mental equilibrium.

Taking a deep breath, she spoke, both hands still throttling the green lengths of terry cloth. "Tell me."

"It was saving someone's life, of course, bloody heroics but unfortunately necessary at the time," he replied. "Do you really need more details?"

She shook her head, her eyes flooding with tears. "No. It's enough to know it happened, I guess. Oh rabbits!" she cried, dashing away the tears with an impatient motion. "I mean, honestly, it's not as if it hasn't happened before, is it? And you're still alive, you're just…different."

He repressed the urge to take her in his arms, to offer physical comfort for the anguish in her face and voice, waited stoically until she regained control of herself. She was right, it had happened before, in front of her very eyes the time before this one. At least that time he'd been saving the bloody universe, not just a single life. He dampened the surge of irrational anger that knife-bladed its way through his psyche. It wasn't Peri's fault, and he'd have to get over his anger at her part in the events that had led to his current regeneration.

"I guess this means you still haven't found a cure."

He glanced down at himself before looking back at her. "I've been busy," he said wryly, eliciting a small smile in response. "But I haven't given up," he surprised himself by adding.

"Of course not, you're like a dog with a bone once you've got your teeth into a problem," Tegan replied, trust and faith radiating from her every pore. Trust and faith he didn't deserve, but resolved to be worthy of in the future. "I know you'll keep working on it."

Not sure what to say, covering for his sudden consternation, he blurted: "Er, Peri said to tell you hello."

"I'd like to meet her someday," Tegan replied with a wistful sigh. "Maybe you could bring her along next time. I'm sure I could stand the headache for a few hours..."

"No you couldn't." He surprised himself again with the forcefulness of his response, with the emotional reaction he couldn't quite suppress. "Every time another mind intrudes on yours it weakens your ability to fend others off. Sooner or later your mental barriers will collapse completely, past my ability to shore them up, and that'll be the end of it."

"The end of me, you mean?"

She sounded resigned rather than angry, so he became angry for her. "Yes, that's exactly what I mean," he snapped. "Why aren't you railing at me, telling me how stupid I was to get myself killed, demanding to know why I haven't gotten any further along in my hunt for a cure? Why aren't you shouting and telling me you hate me?"

"You're doing enough shouting for the both of us," was her mild response. "And what good has it done me in the past, shouting at you, calling you dreadful names, throwing a temper tantrum like a spoiled two year old? No good at all. You may as well stop coming round, just put me back in the trance and let me live out the rest of my life on this endless vacation."

"Not a chance," he said, conveniently forgetting his earlier reluctance to return to his research. He wanted to shake her out of this funk, bring back the spitfire he remembered so fondly, but wasn't sure how. "You know I never wanted to hypnotize you in the first place; you'd be better off without it."

That did it; she glared at him, hands on hips, seeming to grow six inches taller in front of his eyes and in spite of her seated position. "Oh no, you promised! So just toddle back off to the TARDIS and get to work, but put me under first!"

He shook his head with deliberate slowness, never taking his eyes from hers.

_Thwack!_ He reeled back, stunned, reaching up to touch the stinging spot on his cheek. "You hit me!"

"And I'll do it again if you ever try to go back on your promise!" Tegan snarled, rubbing her fingers. He hoped they stung as much as his cheek. She'd risen to her feet to deliver the slap and remained standing, glaring down at him. "It's bad enough you got yourself killed and come back in that ridiculous outfit and hair, but I'll not stand for you to go back on your word!"

"I'm a different man now, Tegan," the Doctor pointed out as he, too rose to his feet, towering over her petite form and matching her glare for glare. "Maybe now I'm the type of man who doesn't keep his word, or at least the type who doesn't believe that sedating someone permanently is the way to solve anything!"

Oh, he'd wanted her angry, and that was exactly what he had on his hands now. She threw her towel at him and tried to brush past him, but he was having none of that. The apathy she'd been exhibiting was gone, and he intended to make sure it didn't come back for a good, long time. He hauled her around to face him, grabbing her free hand when she raised it to deliver another slap.

Twisting in his hold, Tegan found herself calling him names in spite of her resolve to keep her temper, kicking at him, spitting curses as he hauled her arms behind her back and pulled her closer.

It wasn't until his lips met hers that either one of them realized what he intended, and it was impossible to judge which of them was the more surprised by the kiss.

"I thought you were a different man now," Tegan murmured when the kiss ended, staring up at him in a mixture of shock and speculation. "Don't tell me you still want me…"

He responded by kissing her again, crushing her against his body, releasing her arms in order to embrace her more fully. Her hands crept up to meet at the back of his neck, pulling his head down as she strained on tip-toe to meet his greater height, deepening the kiss as she did so.

It was, perhaps, inevitable that they should wind up on the sofa once again, this time with far less clothing than they'd started out with. For Tegan it was only a matter of untying a few knots and her bikini was reduced to two strips of black fabric fluttering on the edge of the coffee table, but for him the process was more complicated.

Tegan dropped the parti-colored jacket to the floor with a disdainful snort, then picked at his necktie and started in on the buttons to his shirt when that article of clothing had joined the jacket.

The entire heap of clothing lay tangled on the floor, as they lay tangled in one another's arms, and his last coherent thought was wondering how the hell he'd allowed himself to end up in this position. Then Tegan's lips claimed his, and he surrendered to the inevitable.

This time, the inevitable had an extra frisson of spice to it; he felt almost guilty, as if he were cheating on himself, or Tegan was. The two of them together, behind his fifth self's back, were such a thing truly possible.

He felt…naughty. Naughty, and incredibly aroused. He felt Tegan's fingers tugging impatiently at the zip to his pants, delving under his waistband and wrapping themselves firmly around his hardening cock. He groaned and squirmed his way out of the remainder of his clothing before almost literally falling upon her, forcing her back into the sofa cushions, lips and tongue demanding entrance and receiving an enthusiastic welcome from her own mouth.

_Nice to know it's capable of so much more than complaining,_ he thought, immediately chastising himself for such mean-spiritedness. Especially under the circumstances. Tegan may have been a bit on the whiny side when she first traveled on the TARDIS, but she'd more than mended her ways the second time round, and her attitude since her enforced solitude had been nothing short of miraculous.

He pulled himself free of her embrace for a brief moment to study her breasts. Magnificent things, breasts; made for nurturing the next generation and yet sturdy and sensitive enough to both endure and enjoy being playthings for the male — and yes, sometimes other females — of the species. He lowered his lips to see for himself; yes, she responded beautifully, her mouth making an "O" of pleasure as he sucked and nibbled his way from one to the other. She pressed herself upwards while her hands remained busy below the belt, stroking and squeezing and generally bringing his state of arousal to heretofore (at least in this incarnation) unknown levels.

The stink of sex was on them both; his eyes were no doubt in the same state of dilation as hers, his breath sounding equally ragged; with a growl, he disengaged her fingers and forced his way into her moist center, plunging down and back up again aggressively as her fingers clutched at his arms and her head strained back on her neck, small cries making their way sharply up her throat and out through her lips to linger in the air between them, increasing in volume and number until suddenly she shrieked in pleasure, raising herself up to press against him when she was unable to bring him down to her.

At some point her legs had wound their way around his waist and she ground her hips furiously against his until he, too, felt the shuddering release he was unable to hold back a second longer. He cried out, once, then fell silent, holding her still-trembling form in his arms, gently laying her back on the cushions and gazing down at her meditatively, studying her face as intently as any experiment he'd ever undertaken. Then he kissed her, gently, on the forehead and heaved himself off her and headed, still naked, for the nearest shower.

Tegan watched him go. He wasn't the man he'd been, but there was nothing wrong with the man he'd become either, excepting his distinct lack of taste when it came to clothing. However, she had a feeling this might have been a purely one-off situation for him; no matter how enthusiastically he'd joined his body to hers, it hadn't felt the same and not just because he had a bigger, er, _beefier_ body and a different face.

No, it was the mind behind the physical changes that had altered as well. Not entirely; he was still the Doctor and always would be, but there were fundamental differences every time he reinvented himself. This one, she felt sure, had had no intention of sleeping with her; having done so once, she doubted he'd ever do it again.

She shrugged mentally. His loss. _And yours,_ her mind whispered to her, but she ignored it. Once he sent her back into the mental fog that kept her sane, it wouldn't matter.

**ooooOoooo**

He refused to hypnotize her again, of course; she'd lost that argument whether she knew it or not, lost it before he ever set foot on the unnamed planet that was now her home.

"No," he said, refastening his tie and ignoring the glare she was throwing his way. His hair was still wet from the shower, and Tegan had taken the time to throw on a modest blouse and pair of jeans. She was curled up on the sofa, watching as he meticulously re-clothed himself.

"I'll be back, you can count on it. And back quickly, as far as you're concerned. Tomorrow, perhaps, or the day after, no longer. You have my word, and that's one promise I won't go back on. And I'll find a damned cure as well, if only to keep you from shouting at me again."

That last was said with a distinct twinkle in his eye, and Tegan responded by throwing his jacket at him. He caught it deftly in one hand, swung his arms into the sleeves, then startled her by leaning down to give her a lingering kiss good-bye. Afterwards he strode out the door without a backward glance, allowing it to slam shut behind him.

Fun time was over; he had work to do.


	11. R&R

**The Next Day**

Tegan turned as she heard the front door open. True to his word, the Doctor had returned. "Good news?" she started to ask, then froze in place as the Doctor walked through the front door. _Her_ Doctor, the one she knew was dead in some timeline ahead of the one he was obviously occupying.

He watched in alarm as Tegan swayed dizzily on her feet, was at her side in an instant as she started to collapse to the floor. "You're dead," he heard her murmur before unconsciousness claimed her.

The Doctor's fifth incarnation lifted her in his arms and laid her gently on the sofa before stepping back and regarding her in bemusement. "Well, it looks as if one of my future selves has been for a visit," he said aloud, then clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "And without warning me in advance, rather poor form, that."

It was discouraging, actually; if his future selves had started coming round, then it meant he wasn't going to find a cure within his own timeline. That wouldn't stop him searching, of course, because one thing about living a non-linear life was that you never knew when something might happen, in your own past or future or sometimes even congruent to the life you were currently leading.

Like this. He waited patiently for Tegan to come round; he needed to know which self had been visiting, what had been said, and why Tegan hadn't been returned to her trance state after said visit was over. If she had, then his presence wouldn't have been such a shock. It wouldn't have been a shock at all, just a pleasant surprise even if another self had appeared in between his last visit and this one.

**oOo**

Tegan blinked, blinked a second time, then a third before opening her eyes and looking round in a puzzled manner. Had she fallen asleep? No, of course not. A sigh escaped her lips as she spotted the Doctor sitting in the chair facing her. She was lying on the sofa, her red heels sitting neatly on the edge of the carpet, side by side like little soldiers. She sat up, pushing aside the brightly colored afghan that had been draped over her, studying the Doctor.

_Her_ Doctor. His fifth self. "You're dead," she croaked out. Repeating herself. "I never thought I'd see you again once he showed up."

Hm. Obviously the future self that had revealed himself to Tegan had been his immediate successor. "Tell me," he said, his voice gentle and inviting, but Tegan flushed and turned her eyes from his. He raised an eyebrow; curious, she was acting almost…_guilty_.

"Tegan," he said, keeping his voice low and even, "it's all right, you know. It's still me, even if in a different form. Still the Doctor, no matter what I look or act like; no matter what you might do with him it's the same as doing it with me, you know." Well, no, actually it wasn't, but if his suspicions were correct it was what Tegan needed to hear.

"I didn't mean to," she blurted out, seeming relieved that he'd scoped it out himself, without her having to tell him. "I don't think he did, either, it just…_happened_. And I thought I'd never see you again…" She burst into tears and he was at her side in a flash, taking her in his arms, murmuring words of comfort and encouragement.

She buried her head in his shoulder, and gradually the sobs slowed and stopped. He withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her as soon as she raised her face. She turned away as she wiped her cheeks and blew her nose, dropping the used hankie on the coffee table after taking a final swipe at the corners of her eyes. "Sorry."

"No need for apologies, not for anything," the Doctor stressed, reaching out to take her hands in his. "Just tell me what you can; I assume from his visit that I don't manage to find a cure before whatever disaster befalls me?" He kept his tone light, not wanting her to know how much this reminder of his mortality upset his inner equilibrium.

Never mind; she knew, he could see the sympathy in her eyes as she studied him. "No, I guess not. But he — you — promised to keep searching."

"And he left without putting you back under?" That little fact hadn't escaped him, but until now it hadn't seemed important to address the question. "You didn't remind him?"

Tegan shrugged, half looked away, studied her nails for a moment before looking back up at him. "He refused to do it."

"Refused?"

Tegan nodded, looking somewhat abashed. "He said I'd be better off without it."

He raised an eyebrow. "I assume you, er, disagreed with him"

Tegan flushed a bright red as she recalled the events of yesterday afternoon. Was it cheating if you thought your lover was dead? Was it cheating if you were technically sleeping with the same man? The Doctor himself said no, but it still felt that way. "Yeah, I disagreed with him," she replied. "But as you can tell, he won. It wasn't as if I could force him to do it," she felt constrained to point out, as if failing to convince him to do something he really didn't want to do was her own fault.

"Well, it hasn't seemed to have caused any harm" he replied cautiously.

Tegan's eyes flashed in irritation. "Well, it's only been one day, after all." Then she paused, visibly reconsidering the rant she'd been about to embark on. "Of course, if you keep popping up a day apart it won't be that bad. But I'd still rather go back under when you leave."

He chose not to respond to that half-demand, half-request; he'd deal with it when he left. Another long six months had gone by in his own time, events had occurred that he wasn't really interested in reliving any time soon, so he managed to head off her obvious next choice of conversation, asking how he'd been, by kissing her. "Let's go for a ride, shall we? I need to clear my head and a horseback ride is just the thing."

She acquiesced, but not without offering him a knowing look as she hurried upstairs to don her riding clothes. He followed more slowly, taking the stairs one plodding step at a time, allowing himself to process the knowledge that he was destined to regenerate without finding a cure as he found a set of riding boots to pull on from the wardrobe room.

He frowned as he regarded the neat rows of footwear lining up the side of the walk-in closet that housed male clothing. If his future self was going to make visits, would he, too, require changes of clothing to keep on the premises? It was disconcerting, to think that he might need to accommodate another presence even if it was his own.

Even more disconcerting was the obvious follow-up thought: what if more of his future selves had to make appearances? What if none of them found a cure, and Tegan truly was stuck here for the rest of her life? "At least there'll be a bit of variety in her visitors," he consoled himself. Too bad it came out gloomier than he'd meant it to.

Too bad as well that Tegan happened by at that moment, no doubt looking for her own riding boots. "That sounds like giving up," she said, her voice sharp with a sudden surge of anxiety. "Even if you don't find it, that doesn't mean he won't!"

He started to assure her that he wasn't giving up, that he wasn't discouraged by his own current and future lack of success, but stopped. He refused to lie to her, and the truth was, right now he was feeling very discouraged. He admitted as much, and Tegan tugged him by one hand. "Let's ride," was all she said.

**oOo**

They returned to the house, sweaty and exhausted, when the sun was just setting to the west. Tegan plopped onto the sofa and lifted her feet to the coffee table with a weary sigh. The Doctor knelt down opposite and gently wigged her feet out of the knee-high leather boots. She started to protest, then subsided, leaning back against the back of the sofa and emitting a groan of contentment as her feet emerged from their sweaty prisons. "That's almost as heavenly as a foot bath," she said, eyes closed.

"Or a dip in the spa?" he suggested.

Tegan's eyes popped open and she grinned. "Ooh, perfect!" she agreed, then indicated that he should join her on the sofa. She tugged his boots off, wrinkling her nose in exaggerated distaste as his sweaty socks were revealed. "Just in time, I'd say," she added in mock criticism.

"Yes, well, four hours of riding hasn't exactly raised your aroma to heavenly levels, either," the Doctor shot back. Tegan made as if to pitch his boot at him, but he grabbed her wrist and twisted gently. She dropped the offending foot gear to the floor and allowed him to guide her to the back deck.

The spa was near the smaller of the two pools he'd built for her, the one just off the back of the house. While the Doctor busied himself uncovering it, Tegan got to work on stripping off her riding clothes, dropping them in a heap on the faux-wooden decking. The ubiquitous cleaning robots would whisk them away later, as they no doubt were currently taking care of the discarded boots inside the house.

The Doctor finished readying the spa, turning to watch as Tegan removed the last of her clothing. Neither of them bothered with bathing costumes, and he watched even more appreciatively as she stretched, cat-like, before climbing into the water and submerging herself neck-deep in the bubbling warmth.

She in turn watched with equal appreciation as he removed his own clothing and clambered in next to her. When his naked thigh touched hers, however, she felt a sudden shyness overcome her; she'd just slept with his future self the day before, for heaven's sakes; what was she thinking?

Before guilt and panic could overwhelm her, however, the Doctor smiled at her, the smile she'd come to love so well, gentle and understanding, and all her doubts fell by the wayside. If there was anything to forgive about her actions, he'd already forgiven them, without so much as a word of those actions passing between them.

And when he kissed her, she returned the kiss in full measure, allowed him to pull her close, to encircle her with his arms. And when his kisses started to wander, she put all thoughts of other trysts in the back of her mind and allowed her hands to wander as well.

The water bubbled around them, hot and steamy, unseen holographic birds twittered in the trees, a warm wind drifted through their hair, stirring red and golden strands gently before moving away from the lovers entwined in one another's arms.

He was here, he was real; he was dead and gone and replaced by a new self. It was a paradox, one she had no intention of exploring, not right now. He was here, he was real, he was holding her, pulling her tightly against his body, pressing his lips to hers, and that was enough for her.

Eagerly she returned his embrace, opened her mouth against his and slipped her tongue between his lips, her hand between his legs. He opened to her touch in both locations, easing her onto his lap as the water bubbled and seethed around them. She lowered herself onto his cock without need of a guiding hand or even the slightest semblance of foreplay.

The Doctor grunted with pleasure as she mounted him, and if he objected to the abruptness of Tegan's movement he gave no sign, merely settled into the quick, urgent rhythm she imposed, keeping his mouth tight against hers as he thrust upward to meet the downward motion of her hips and thighs.

He waited until she came before allowing himself the same release, moaning against her mouth even as she cried out against his.

They made love a second time, still in the spa, no words passing between them until the second time they climaxed. Then he cried out her name as she burrowed her face into the crease between neck and shoulder, his arms holding as tightly as ever he'd held any precious object, and she murmured something into his skin that even his excellent hearing couldn't translate. Content that it was merely love words, he asked for no clarification, merely relaxed against the wall of the spa and eased Tegan off his lap.


	12. Interludes

_A/N: Only two chapters left before this story ends and "Confinement" starts up. Enjoy!_

* * *

"I'm not giving up, don't ever believe that," he continued after a moment. "But it could get to be a bit complicated around here, what with two of me running about. I'm sure we can manage not to show up at the same time, of course," he hastened to assure her.

By the blankness of Tegan's face she hadn't even considered such a possibility, much less worried about it enough to require reassurance. And when her expression did change, he would have sworn she looked…intrigued.

He chose to ignore the implications of the slow grin that spread over her face as she appeared to continue her contemplation of having two Doctors on her planet at the same time. "Things have changed, if not quite the way we were hoping," he continued after another silent moment. Usually Tegan was the one who couldn't stand the silences, who filled them with chatter and noise, but this time he was the one who couldn't stop babbling about things that must be painful for her to consider. Still, she was the one who'd brought it up, and if he responded to her words with silence she'd no doubt start to berate him.

Was she right, did he intend to leave and not return, leaving the game to his future self? Leaving _her_ to his future self as well? They both knew this arrangement had no permanency to it, at least not for the two of them. Even if no cure was found and she lived out her life on this rock, even if she talked either him or his future self into hypnotizing her again to live out that life, that was less a future than an inevitability, one they would each fight in their own ways until it was either circumvented or reached.

"I'll be back." There, he'd considered it, decided it, and said it, all at once. "Brave heart, Tegan."

"I'll hold you to that," was all she replied, tilting her lips up for a kiss. To seal the bargain. He brushed his lips against hers, keeping the kiss gentle and full of promise.

**Interlude: Elsewhere, Elsewhen**

How had he come into existence? How could he ensure that he _would_ come into existence? What seemed inevitable could, paradoxically, be impossible at the same time. The Doctor was a force for good in the universe through twelve long lives and a force for evil for only one, and it was always a struggle to retain that existence, even in light of his experiences within the Matrix.

He called himself the Valeyard rather than the Doctor, distancing himself that much further from his previous lives. His lip curled as he considered them, his previous selves, the ones called "the Doctor." His new self was comfortably settled into a new body, and he had many chances for regeneration ahead of him in this stolen vessel, the chance to outlive and outshine his predecessor body twelve times over and more if he chose to cast aside his final regeneration and take another Time Lord for himself…

But no, that was no longer an option, was it. He'd allowed himself to forget, if only for a fraction of a second. Only the fact that he was part of the Doctor in spite of his new body kept him from being sucked into the non-existence of time-locked Gallifrey and its pathetic hoardes, Time Lords and Gallifreyans and Shobogans and the occasional hapless entrapped alien alike. Only one other had managed to escape, one other that wasn't worth thinking about, a pathetic failure no matter how great a force for evil he fancied himself, with his grandiose plans and title: The Master. He'd escaped and fled and hid himself away.

At least his own progenitor had the intestinal fortitude to own up to what he'd done, and in doing so, in freeing himself from Gallifrey's fate and that of his fellow Time Lords, he'd sealed his own fate, created his own future and kept that future, however disdainfully he regarded it, from being sealed away forever.

Of course it had been a narrow escape, none narrower, and of course the Doctor had tried, oh how he'd tried to lock up that part of himself, the part he never wanted to exist in the first place, the part that existed only as a concept but one firmly grounded in reality, but he'd failed and in failing ensured the future.

Well, partially ensured it, anyway.

The Valeyard frowned. He was free from the Time War and its resultant chaos, free from Gallifrey and free from the hateful prison of the Doctor's worn out body, but he wasn't free, never would be free, from self-doubt and fear that somehow that bloody goody-two-shoes would find a way to stop him from coming into existence, even now, even two lives and one body removed from the tether that tied him to his past.

That was the problem; the past could never be fully escaped, no matter how far and how long you ran, and he should know that better than anyone, better than the Master, even. The Doctor's first self had fled Gallifrey and been dragged back and fled again, fleeing even the presidency and the responsibilities that, ironically enough had he allowed himself to realize it, might have turned the tides of the future war into mere ripples of possibility with no actualization.

Had he not run, he might have saved Gallifrey. That was more than irony, it was cruel irony to his past selves and delicious irony to the self he was now and forevermore would be. It was an act of cowardice that was another paving stone on the path to his existence and so he would treasure it, it and the others he so painstakingly kept track of.

He needed more, however, more to keep the path straight and narrow and headed directly to Hell, to make his existence so implicit and so pre-destined that nothing his past selves could do would be able to erase that path. An image from an old Earth animation came to his mind, a dog with the head of a whisk-broom briskly sweeping away the path in front of a young blonde girl in blue dress and pinafore, sweeping it away from in front of her and behind her and leaving nothing but the small square she stood upon, no sign of where she'd been going to or come from left to see, isolated, and he was determined never to be so isolated as that.

Isolated…that word rang through his mind, banishing the foolish cartoon image and the uncomfortable sensation it raised in him. Isolated. Why should that word resonate…of course. His lips curled in a smile. Isolated. Alone.

Solitary.

He keyed in his destination, stabbing at the TARDIS controls as if it took more than a mere touch to input the data that flooded his mind, the half-forgotten yet never forgotten coordinates.

It would be interesting to see if Tegan, alone and vulnerable and so very solitary on her little cinder of a world at the far end of time and space, would be as insulated from his mind in its new body as she'd always been insulated from his old mind in its other incarnations. How much was due to biology and how much due to the less definable make-up of a mind, the psychology or spirit or soul or whatever other name might be given to his sense of self versus his brain's new anatomy?

"Only one way to find out," he said aloud, and wrenched the final level, stabbed the final button. Then he and the TARDIS were away.


	13. Taken

They were playing chess when he arrived.

It had taken a few attempts on the Doctor's part to get her to try the game, since she'd never played it in her life. "Too intellectual for the likes of me," she'd declared when he arrived, elaborately carved chessboard in hand. Real ivory, the white pieces were, the dark ones some wood whose name she'd forgotten as soon as the Doctor pronounced it.

But, coaxing and wheedling, he'd managed to talk her into it.

Now, after only their fifth series of games, he half-wished she'd continued to turn him down.

Oh, she was no match for a Time Lord, likely no match for any merely human opponent at above-novice level, but she discovered a talent for strategy within herself and a voracious appetite was born.

He'd brought the chessboard the second time he made his way to her hidey-hole; the first time he'd brought a recording that Ace had made, enthusiastically reciting to Tegan all the adventures she'd shared with this incarnation of the Doctor, dutifully updating it each time he left her to visit Tegan in her lonely exile.

The seventh Doctor he was, as comfortable as a pair of old shoes as Tegan rather unflatteringly put it on his second visit.

His first self to visit her that she hadn't slept with, to his secret relief. Oh, if she'd wanted to, what was the phrase, jump his bones, he certainly wouldn't put her off, but time and regeneration had mellowed his passions for the purely physical recreation of sex, even with this woman who would always hold a special place in his hearts.

Fortunately she seemed to feel the same way, or perhaps one of his younger selves, in body and spirit, had just left? Either way they spent the first visit watching and, in his case, frequently wincing at, Ace's recording. She'd left room at the end for Tegan to make a recording of her own, and she'd spent some time doing that, offering her own versions of her travels with the Doctor in rambling diatribes and succinct tidbits that were sure to tickle Ace's ravenous imagination into demanding more details than Tegan had given.

Good. Let her have some form of communication with the larger universe besides his visits and those of his previous selves. Let her forget, at least for a moment, that she'd been nearly a year in her exile and that none of the three selves who'd shown themselves to her in that time had yet to discover a way to free her from that exile.

None of them had ever infringed on the others' time with Tegan, each keeping meticulous records in the TARDIS database of when and for how long they'd visited. At the same time, none of them ever checked to see how long Tegan would remain on this planet, all of his selves in agreement that Tegan didn't need to know, not now, not once she'd gotten past the idea of being in a Gallifreyan-hypnosis-induced fog between his visits. Their visits. Whatever.

So the sound of the door opening caught their attention, but didn't alarm them. Any foreign presence within a million light years, let alone on the surface of the tiny world, would announce itself with a blinding flash of pain for Tegan and via a discreet hum in the Doctor's waistcoat pocket from one of the many warning devices he'd seeded throughout the small solar system and its environs over the past year.

The opened door most likely admitted one of her many guardian robots with some problem that needed addressing; sometimes the horses were skittish around the vaguely humanoid forms and needed Tegan to calm them, sometimes there was a problem requiring the Doctor's attention, although rarely, and so they looked up from the chessboard, expecting to see a metallic figure stroll or roll or hover its way into the room to ask for their assistance.

Instead, it was a man. Presumably it was he, himself, some future form, and he scowled. "Bad manners not to check the database first," he said as he rose to his feet.

Tegan stared, wide-eyed. Not since Rassilon's tomb had she seen more than one Doctor at a time, and even then it had been "her" Doctor and three out of four of his past selves, whom she'd seen in some form or other in the TARDIS databanks that were a sort of library for fellow travelers to peruse in their downtime, if they so desired.

The man, the Doctor?, was tall, rangy, dark-eyed and dark-haired…no, surely that was a hint of red she saw glinting through the dark locks? "You've finally gone ginger," she had time to remark. Then the hand tucked into the folds of his dark overcoat emerged and it was holding a weapon and aiming at her and making a sort of "bzzt" electrical noise and then she was falling and falling and darkness was overtaking her even as she heard the chess-playing version of the Doctor shouting and another of those "bzzt" noises and then she was out like the proverbial light.

The Doctor came to slowly at first, then all at once snapped himself upright from where he'd fallen into an ungainly heap on the floor. He was alone, in the room and, he sensed, in the house and on the planet as well. He took the time to confirm his suspicions, calling Tegan's name even as he knew it to be a futile gesture.

She and his future self were gone.


	14. Kill or Cure

**Elsewhere, Elsewhen**

Tegan awoke to find herself lying on a make-shift bed of what looked like sofa cushions and pillows and even folded blankets, heaped haphazardly in the middle of what faintly resembled the TARDIS control room she was used to. This room, however, was ten, twenty, fifty, a hundred times larger than the room she remembered, a domed, echoing emptiness with an oversized console in the middle and metal grated floors beneath her and wires and tubes hanging from the distant ceiling. She rolled over and pushed herself to a sitting position, surprised that she felt nothing worse than a mild headache in the aftermath of being blasted into unconsciousness.

"Hello?" she called out, her echoing voice bothering her headache a smidge as she made her way to her feet. "Anybody here?"

"Ah, Tegan, you're awake. Excellent." The man had been kneeling or lying or sitting behind the console; he appeared almost as if he were a jack-in-the-box, popping up only a few feet away and startling a yelp out of her before she clamped her lips tightly shut and glared at him. "No need to be angry, my dear, I'm sorry for the rough handling, but you know how I am, my past and future selves don't always get on very well."

So he was the Doctor, or at least claimed to be. She examined him through narrowed eyes: still tall, still auburn-haired and narrow-faced, eyes a deep brown rather than the black she'd thought them back home…no, not home. Back on her cozy little prison built for one. He had shucked the dark overcoat and was wearing rumpled tweeds that would look at home on any English country squire from the Edwardian era to the 1980s, the time period she persisted in calling her own.

"Not get on very well?" she repeated disbelievingly. "You knocked us out and kidnapped me! Why?!"

"Because I knew he'd disagree with what I had planned. If you'd been alone," the Doctor added with a casual shrug, "I would have been able to explain things without wasting time arguing with myself. So I did what I had to. Needs must when the devil drives," he quoted.

Tegan ignored the self-serving flippancy as she stood up and continued to glare at him. "If you're the Doctor," she snapped, "then I'm the Queen of Egypt. The Doctor would never do something like that!"

"Ah, but wouldn't I?" he asked, eyes gleaming and a half-smile hovering over his lips as if he were simply enjoying an invigorating spot of debate. "Regenerative trauma can do a lot to a chap's state of mind, make him do things he wouldn't otherwise. Ask my sixth self about his attempt to strangle Peri when he first regenerated; not all of us do things as harmless as unraveling a ratty old scarf, eh?"

Tegan couldn't vouch for the strangling bit, but she certainly remembered the scarf when her Doctor, his fifth self, had first come into being after that dreadful fall. Unravel it he had, in front of only two witnesses, herself and Nyssa, and it certainly hadn't been worth mentioning except as proof that the man standing in front of her was who he claimed to be. "So this is the TARDIS, then?" she asked, still not quite convinced, not entirely, but if he wasn't the Doctor, why lie when he had already taken her prisoner?

"Yes, sorry, it's been redecorated a bit since the last time you were on board. Cozy spaces are all well and good, clean lines, the like, but sometimes a bit of chaos and space stimulates the brain cells. Even to the point of having breakthroughs, eh?"

That last was spoken with a heavy load of significance, both in word and in expression. Tegan's own face underwent a rapid series of changes, from suspicious anger to confusion to the first dawning rays of hope. "You mean…you mean you've figured something out?"

He nodded and rubbed his hands together. "Of course, surely you never doubted me. And here it is," he added, gesturing behind him.

"It", when Tegan cautiously moved to stand by his side, turned out to be a thin film stretched between metal rods, roughly her height and twice her width. Like a soap bubble, the substance shimmered iridescently, rippling softly as she watched. "What is it?"

"It's a bioneural telesthetic inhibiting membrane."

Tegan stared at him blankly. "In plain English, Doctor, please!"

He gave an impatient sigh. "It's designed to interfere with whatever it is the Mara's done to your brain," he explained in the exaggerated tones one uses to tell a toddler why he can't have the moon as a plaything. "It bonds with your epidermis on a molecular level, keeping your mind strictly to yourself." He tapped her on the forehead; she recoiled slightly from his touch but forced herself to stay in place. Not to retreat. "Nothing can get in, nothing can get out."

Tegan eyed the translucent sheet doubtfully. "I have to wrap my head in that stuff? How'll I breathe?"

"Molecular bonding," he reminded her, still sounding impatient. Apparently this latest incarnation didn't like explaining himself. Too bad. "It's not something you can just shuck off at a moment's notice, it becomes a part of you. And not just your head, your entire body. Your entire nervous system has to be encased, from head to toe and fingertip to fingertip, not just your brain."

Tegan took a step closer, then paused. "And you're sure this'll work? How did you find this thing, or did you invent it? Has it worked on a problem like mine before?" The questions came in a rush as her doubts followed hard on the heels of her excitement. "You said you've never seen anything like what the Mara did to me, haven't even been able to explain the process to your own satisfaction…"

"So many questions, Tegan, and all of them excellent ones indeed, but time is of the essence in this matter," the Doctor interrupted her, his voice soothing but his eyes…something about his eyes made her nervous, just for a moment, then they were as calm and reassuring as his voice. "It's perfectly safe, I promise you."

"Then why would Seven argue with you about it?" Tegan asked, the doubts crowding in faster and faster. She took a nervous step back, only to be stopped by the Doctor's arm around her shoulder.

"Because he'd want to test it himself; none of my other selves are ever willing to just take my word for anything," he snapped, then took a deep breath as if to calm himself. "None of us are willing to simply take any of the others at their word, especially not when it's something as important as this," he clarified, then turned her to face him, both his hands on her shoulders, gaze deep and intense, capturing her fullest attention. "Tegan, you need to listen to me, very carefully…"

**oOo**

Tegan was naked. She looked down at herself and gasped in dismay before she remembered. Of course she was naked, she had to be completely naked in order for the Doctor's marvelous invention to work on her. Naked, no jewelry, no makeup, no nail varnish, just Tegan and Tegan alone. Naked as the day she was born so the neural inhibitor could be put to use, give her back the life she'd been forced to leave, end her exile, allow her the company of more than just the Doctor in his infinite varieties.

To be honest, she was more uncomfortable about the make-up part than the clothing; after all, the Doctor had seen her naked before, and this version would have memories of her in that state. No, she was just having an attack of nerves. She forced herself to pay attention to what he was saying instead of fretting over her state of undress.

"As a beneficial side effect, once the bonding is complete, your aging process will slow significantly," the Doctor said as he made some adjustments to the control device he held in his right hand, punching in a rapid-fire sequence of numbers as he readied the machine for her.

"You'll be able to sell it on Earth just on those merits alone," Tegan quipped to cover her nervousness. And she was nervous, of course she was; even though the Doctor had explained everything to her satisfaction (_when had he done that?_ a part of her mind wondered, but she brushed it aside), still it was something new, something she'd never done before, and her life was once again about to change.

"This time for the better," she muttered to herself, then gave a brisk nod. "Right. Just say the word, Doc. I'm ready."

"Good girl," he said with a broad grin. Putting his hands on her shoulders he steered her toward the shimmering film, standing her a few feet behind it. "When you see the lights here," he pointed to the left side, "and here," he pointed to the right, "then step into the membrane and keep walking until you've completely passed through the framework. And be sure to keep your eyes open," he cautioned. "If they're closed the whole thing's for naught and I'll have to start over again from scratch."

She nodded her understanding.

With one last, encouraging pat on the back, he stepped over the to TARDIS console and punched in one more number, then depressed the "enter" key. The lights on the right and left sides of the thin metal frame lit up, right on schedule, and after the briefest of hesitations, Tegan walked through, eyes open, head held high, shaking knees barely noticeable (she hoped) to anyone but her.

**oOo**

The Valeyard watched avidly as Tegan strode through the membrane, obviously trying to mask her fright with a defiant tilt to her chin and a stiff-legged stride that did nothing to cover the quivering of her legs, the weakness of her knees as she made her way through the membrane and into her future. The future he had mapped out for her.

She was magnificent, even if it had taken a touch of hypnosis to get her to shut up and just do as he told her to. He could see why so many of his past selves were taken with her. It wasn't just the physical beauty; there was something about her spirit as well.

Of course she was hardly _his_ type, or at least she hadn't been. Now, however, things had changed. How much they had changed remained to be seen; the membrane was highly experimental, no telling if it would work as he'd been promised by its designer. Time to find out.

He smiled and moved around the console as Tegan came to an uncertain stop, blinking and lifting her hands in front of her face, obviously studying them for some sign of the bioneural membrane that would have felt as tenuous as spider webs over her body when she passed through it. There wasn't any, of course; the physical attachment had worked exactly as he had told her it would, bonding with her, melding with her flesh, integrating itself deep into her nervous system, becoming part of her. Indistinguishable. Splendid. "How do you feel?" he asked, keeping his voice solicitous.

She offered him an uncertain smile. "I'm not sure," she confessed. "I guess I thought I'd feel differently, but I don't, not really. Is it working?"

"Your headache's gone, isn't it?" he asked.

A slight frown drew lines between her brows. "My headache? Well, yes, actually," she admitted after considering the question. "But wasn't that just a side effect of your little electrical gun thing?"

He was grinning, triumphant. His predicted outcome had been achieved! Perfect. "No, that was a side effect of the fact that I'm not in the same body anymore."

The frown grew deeper. "I've never had a headache with any of your other selves."

"None of them had to appropriate another Time Lord's body in order to perpetuate their own existence," he replied, watching her carefully as he spoke, waiting to see how long it would take for realization to dawn in her pathetic, human mind.

Not long at all. Her eyes widened and she took a step backward. "Another Time Lord's body?" she repeated. "You'd never do something like that…no, the _Doctor_ would never do something like that!" Voice sharpening in anger and suspicion, she demanded: "Who are you?" Then, drawing a sudden, fearful breath: "You're the Master, aren't you."

"That ridiculous poser? Hardly," he sneered, then offered a mocking bow. "Call me the Valeyard. The Doctor's potential evil self. Only I've decided to realize my potential, to take my existence into my own hands. After escaping the Matrix, I needed a physical form to house my consciousness. This is my host's second regeneration; I was really rather pleased when it came out ginger. That's been one my goals all along…" His voice trailed off and he frowned. "No, that's always been one of _his_ goals," he corrected himself.

Tegan moved farther away from him, backing up, watching him as warily as a rabbit under the eyes of the hawk. An apt metaphor for an Australian, he decided, but enough was enough. "Stop right there," he ordered her.

To her visible surprise she stopped moving, looking down at her feet with a worried frown. Before she could question what he'd done to her, he issued another order. "Lie down." He gestured toward the makeshift bed he'd put together for her after bringing her to the TARDIS, and she followed that command as well, the surprised look giving way to alarm as her feet obediently marched her to the bedding.

When she was lying on the cushions, her head resting on a haphazard pile of microplush blankets and smaller pillows, she finally managed to gasp out a question. "How—how did you make me do that?"

She could speak her rebellion, but that was all; he had no doubts that she was urging her body to get up and run the hell out of the TARDIS, clothes or no clothes. Her expression told him as much.

He squatted down next to her, capturing her gaze with his own. "It's a less beneficial side effect of the bioneural telesthetic inhibiting membrane that is now fused within you, bonded to your epidermis and deeply integrated into your central nervous system," he said, speaking softly, contemplatively. "You see, it makes the wearer vulnerable to the last mind it encounters before full encasement." He paused a moment to let that revelation sink in before continuing, still in that soft voice. But his expression had hardened into something Tegan found difficult to read. "And if that last mind is a formidable telepathic Time Lord mind, well…" He shrugged. "You've seen the results."

"The Doctor will stop you, he'll find a way to get me out of this," she spat out defiantly. "He'll come after me and he'll stop you, not only from using me like this but from even existing at all."

He laughed at her vehemence. "Come, Tegan, surely you don't believe that? I exist now, therefore I will come into existence at some point and I will continue existing long after the Doctor's own body has finally breathed its last. But you and I, we've a different relationship now." He leaned forward, just a bit, but Tegan shrank away from him and he laughed again, softly this time. "We're closer than you and he could ever be; we've a permanent link between us, mind to mind." He reached out and placed a gentle fingertip in the middle of her forehead, and although she clearly longed to bat his hand away, he knew she couldn't move more than the little bit she'd already managed.

He leaned closer, closer, until his face was just above hers, his eyes boring into hers as her gaze turned frightened, truly frightened, for the first time since realizing that her companion wasn't the man she thought he was. "I can make you do anything I want," he breathed, reaching down to draw a lingering finger up her arm from wrist to shoulder, raising goosebumps in its wake. "Shall I demonstrate?"

"Please don't worry about it on my behalf," Tegan responded, trying for flippancy but failing miserably, sounding even to her own ears only frightened and desperate. "I've got it crystal clear, thank you." Fright was rapidly turning to despair; she couldn't even roll over on this sodding heap of sofa cushions; how could she stop him from using her any way he wanted? She'd never, ever been so helpless; no, once, twice before. In the grip of the Mara, when it, too, had decided to use her to ensure its existence. History repeating itself in endless cruel ironies.

"I think I shall," he said, taking her hand in his and kissing the knuckles one by one. "Tegan, we'll be very close from now on, you and I, and I know enough about you to understand that a mental bond will only be strengthened by the application of a physical bond." He removed his jacket with slow, deliberate movements, obviously savoring the panic blossoming on her face as he folded it and placed it neatly on the floor behind him. "I won't ever forbid you your voice, never fear for that; my mouth on legs will be allowed to speak her mind except in very specific situations."

The waistcoat was off now, folded atop the jacket he'd just removed. Tegan's eyes tracked him as he started unbuttoning his white shirt, as he kicked his loafers off his feet and stripped off his black socks. "And just to prove that I'm not such a bad fellow," he whispered as he undid his trousers and slipped them off, "I'm going to allow you to fight me if you want. I'll use no telepathic coercion on you…starting now."

She felt herself freed abruptly from a hold she hadn't truly recognized until its sudden absence. She could move once again, roll over, climb to her feet and find something to bash him over the head with, get her hands on one of his little zap guns and do to him what he'd done to her and his seventh self. His sort-of seventh self…whatever. She'd work out the semantics of the situation later. Right now, all she wanted to do was distance herself from her captor and then find her way back to safety.

He gave her no time to do more than contemplate escape before he pounced, warned by her eyes, by the sudden tension in her posture that she was absolutely going to take him up on his offer to fight him. Less than a second passed between her freedom contemplated and her freedom once again constrained as he pulled her roughly to him and showed her exactly what he meant by "physical bond."

She fought him, oh, how she fought him, tooth and claw, fingernails and flailing limbs, but he was stronger than she by virtue of sheer size, let alone the Gallifreyan physiognomy propelling his musculature. One hand caught both her wrists, his legs trapped hers, his chest rested heavily on hers, and with his free hand he made lightning raids on her exposed breasts, her hips, the triangle of dark hair at the apex of legs and torso. His lips crushed hers, his tongue invaded, and when she tried desperately to bite it, to make him bleed more than her fingernails had already managed on shoulders and hands and face, he wrenched his face back and away, face distorted in a fearsome scowl as he raised his hand from where it was squeezing her right breast to deliver a harsh backhanded blow across her face.

She cried out in pain and anger, feeling her teeth jar together, feeling her own blood flowing into her mouth, feeling his knee forcing her legs apart, no more playing at romance, no more attempts to kiss or fondle or touch her in any way except to exert his control over her, body, mind, and soul.

She cried out again as he drove into her, back arching in a parody of acceptance, pain blossoming although she was many years separated from her virginity. Both his hands were on her wrists, and he smiled down at her, a tender smile at odds with the brutality of the rhythm of his hips against hers. His cock burned into her with every thrust, marking her as his as explicitly as the mental link they now shared, and worse; she felt his thoughts, nothing coherent, just a surging tide of triumph and hatred and even lust; he _wanted_ this, to take her like a common human ape, and not just to humiliate her and put her in her place, although that was certainly part of it. But not all of it; oh, no, he made sure she felt how much this excited him, to take her for his own, to make her part of his declaration of war on his former selves, the ones who would stop him from existing if they could.

_Never,_ she vowed to herself. Never would she do anything to help him.

As if he heard her thoughts, the Valeyard looked deeply into her eyes and laughed.

**oOo**

When he finished, when he raised himself up and smirked down at her, she turned her head away then just as quickly turned it back, glaring at him. "You're mine, body and mind and, if such a thing exists, soul," the Valeyard declared, either unconsciously echoing her earlier thoughts or else deliberately invoking them. "And now you're going to help me ensure my existence."

Tegan spat out a mouthful of blood. "I'll fight you every chance I get," she vowed, her throat clotted with tears but her gaze remaining fixed on his, murderous, one eye swelling shut but the other radiating enough anger for both. "I'll find a way to stop you, and so will the Doctor."

"The Doctor won't know what hit him," the Valeyard sneered, rolling abruptly onto his side and levering himself to his feet to glare at her with equal venom. "Shall I show you my plans, share them with you? Let you know exactly how you'll be assisting me, my loyal little companion? How we, together, will destroy him, and in that destruction, ensure my creation?"

She lashed out, attempting to kick his feet out from under him, but in a flash she found herself once again immobilized, frozen in place as he dressed himself in a leisurely fashion. When he finished putting his loafers back on he squatted on his heels and regarded her from eyes gone as dark as the deepest recesses of space. "Here's our plan, Tegan, yours and mine now."

He told her, and he forced his mind into hers so she couldn't help but understand, and when he finally allowed her control over her own body and mind, she rolled over in a tight ball, pulling haphazard heaps of blankets and pillows over her until she was completely covered and then, and only then, did she give into the tears that had gathered into a tight ball in her chest, sobbing as she hadn't done since Adric died, since Nyssa left.

Since she left the Doctor and Turlough and the TARDIS and tried to put her adventuring days behind her.

And the Valeyard smiled in triumph as he entered the coordinates for their next destination.

* * *

_To be concluded in the next story, "Confinement."_


End file.
